Tempus Fugit
by LunaLovegoss
Summary: 6yr old H. Granger mysteriously transitions from 1985 to 1899 after moving to a new flat near Godric's Hollow. Demonstrating magical promise resident H. Potter takes the curious young witch home whilst trying to sort her out. Drawn by her powers unspeakable S. Croaker & E. Mintumble show up to investigate, the latter forms an unhealthy interest that ultimately leads to 1402.
1. Chapter 1

**Tempus Fugit - Chapter 1**

 ****(Just Re-Edited)** ******

 **AN: This is my first time publishing a story on this site, though I've been writing for myself for a while. In an effort to learn to write a series, I am turning to the best way possible way I can think to practice… HP fan fiction** **! Tempus Fugit is the first book of my series, and the big precursor to my later stories, it lays the groundwork for my AU theme. That being said, I will be straying from the series for the sake of my story but I've tried to stay as close to possible to the books and movies as possible.**

 **Thanks so much for reading!**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing. All the characters belong to J K Rowling.**

 **December 06, 1985: Mellingham, England: Hermione Granger**

The rented moving truck shuttered and clunked noisily as it pulled up the steep incline that led into the eastern border of Mellingham. As if to solidify the day in their memories forever, it had begun to snow, a rarity so close to the ocean. The cab windows, long past steamed over, had made driving a nightmare for her father (Dr. Richard Hugo Granger), whom hadn't driven in over a decade thanks to the close proximity of work and school to their previous home in Downtown London.

Mindful of his daughters comfort, Rich had worked out a system during the lengthy commute, which consisted of cracking the windows at intervals, and wiping the moisture from the interior surface of the glass with a hand towel at stop signs and red lights in order to keep them clear. Hermione wiped a circle clean, on her own window with her sleeve, than stuck her nose up to the glass. "Wow, it's really dumping!" She said in joyful wonder, for the snow was now nearly a foot deep, and was still coming down in buckets.

Rich smiled indulgently at his daughter then loosened up his grasp on the steering wheel, the color returned to his knuckles as he did so. He'd been gripping the wheel too tightly and sitting forward off the seat. Hermione gave him an encouraging smile and he sat back as though he was acting completely normal. Even at the young age of six Hermione could sympathize that it was probably more then a little stressful for him to be driving in inclement weather, let alone with his only child in the truck beside him.

Hermione left him to driving. Her mother (Dr. Jean Rose Granger) had been very clear with her before they'd left. She was not to distract him. With her mothers words in mind she turned back to her window and reaffixed her nose to the glass, taking in the town that would be her new home. She distracted herself from speaking by watching the massive flakes fall and thinking about what the people would be like at her new school.

The small town of Mellingham had at one point been bustling and thriving community, but the closure of the steel mill at the start of the 1970's had put the city at a stopper. With the drastic drop in employment, the population had dwindled rapidly leaving the city with a rather barren look to it. Now a mix of new and old buildings, (some falling down and some half way built), Mellingham had become more or less a junction between the larger cities to the South and East, and the small Villages to the North. Further, it had more highway connections then landmarks, and her new home was located on a road under one.

"Well, here we are." Rich announced at long last as they pulled up to the curb outside a sorry looking building. Both of them leaned forward and peered out the windows aghast before moving. "Not exactly rustically vintage…" Rich muttered more to himself then his daughter, he was quoting the brokers remarks of course, Hermione had heard nothing but broker remarks for weeks!

Looking up at the hard reality, she couldn't trust herself to speak. The two-story brick building was in obvious need of repairs, and looked to have been abandoned a number of years ago. All of the windows on the first floor had been completely boarded up and were furthermore covered heavily in Graffiti.Having lived in a cramped one room flat in the college district of London all her life her standards weren't high, but this place…

Another of her mother's phrases came to mind, "if haven't got anything nice to say, say nothing at all!" Hermione chewed on her tongue and mentally zipped her lips.

The father daughter pair climbed out of the truck and out onto the weather. The cold now seemed entirely suitable for this situation, and they moved in an unspoken synchrony up onto the sidewalk to stand before their new home thoroughly stunned. As if to drive in the direness of their situation just a little harder a loud honk followed by the sound of swerving tires echoed down the alley from the overpass above. In the snow the sounds magnified and Hermione half expected a car to come flying through the barrier and fall to the street before them. As it were, no such accident occurred, but she wondered if her parents would change their minds if it had.

Rich wrapped an arm about Hermione and pulled her into his side, than he let out a long measured breath. Usually an exhale like that was followed up by a countdown from ten to one, but Hermione assumed he did it mentally because it was about ten seconds later when he spoke. "It's not paradise, but once we've got the place restored it will be sharp enough." Rich rubbed her arms in an effort to stop her shivering.

"C'est la vie," Hermione said to him, squeezing his hand. Her mother said it a lot. "It's life", in other words. It was something her father had picked up quickly despite his difficulties in learning his wives native tongue. Hermione on the other hand was already fluent, having grown up in a bilingual household. "Say las vey," he returned causing them both to laugh from his botched attempt at French.

Warmed by the silly exchange, the pair turned in a circle to give the other buildings on the road deeper consideration. With the exception of a homely looking deli across the street, the other homes and buildings looked to be in a similar state of disrepair. More then a handful had broken windows, and had been boarded from the inside or else covered with old trash bags to keep in the heat. The deli, (the towns saving grace), must have just baked bread though because the air was perfumed with a sweet delectable smell that, coupled with the sight of the pristine white blanket now settled upon them in excess, softened the blow of the new digs just enough to calm them. It was crazy, how snow could make beaten down Mellingham look all right!

"Hard to think this was all forest land about 80 years ago." Her father informed her a moment later, his ability to look on the bright side always impressed her. He crossed back to the truck and wrenched the cabbie door open, then climbed in briefly to retrieve the keys for the back. Hermione wrapped her arms about herself tightly as she watched him.

"Mom's here." She called to him as she spotted her mothers car rounding the corner at the end of the road. Her father turned and nodded, before rolling up the back. Hermione wondered if he was attempting to unload before her mom saw the place so she couldn't run in the other direction screaming. Her mother pulled in right behind them, the old sedan (their first car since high school) whining loudly until the engine was shut off. Jean gave her daughter the same placating smile her father had as she waved from the front window of the car.

Hermione bit her cheek and smiled back. It wasn't easy for her parents. As she understood it, she had been an utter surprise to them and they'd put themselves through dental school on their own while raising her. Owning their own practice was a dream they'd built their lives around so no matter how much of a dump this place seemed to be, Hermione reminded herself to keep her judgments to herself. This seemingly simple task became even more difficult as they entered the dusty old dental office.

Normally, painfully conservative, her parents had taken their first real risk as adults and had bought this place sight unseen for a steal of a deal owing to the fact there had once been a murder on the premises. Once Hermione had gotten wind of that gem of a detail her father had assured her no hauntings had ever been reported, and it would be a perfect place for a pair of recent graduates to start up their practice _._ "Get in while the rent is low and rebuild it in time for the next boom," her father had said. Her mom had backed him up by adding that the office and apartment combo had been a godsend to find and, "when things line up, the time is right."

Resigned to her new home she followed her parents up the front steps to the door. The Broker had nailed the sold sign right to it, bridging the gap between the two heavy doors. It took a fair amount of effort to pry the board free without the proper tools and then to push open the front doors once they'd managed to unlock them. As though the building was trying to discourage them from entering it all together as the doors came open at last dust rained down on them in a cloud, and stuck to their faces. Hermione coughed several times, and her mother waved her arms in an attempt to clear the air, the effect of which caused all three Grangers to sneeze.

"There's another entry via the alley, but I think we'll use this for the most part… once we've fixed the door that is…" her dad the optimist excused.

Since the windows were boarded up, the main room was pitch dark save the light spilling in through the doorway. Her dad retrieved a torch from the truck and in it's light Hermione could also make out the outlines of dental stations long since abandoned. There also appeared to be a waiting area, a reception desk, an office, and several doors along the back wall which she assumed would lead to examination or file rooms, and a loo.

"Well, its got that _antique appeal_ going for it alright." Jean said dryly. Hermione watched her mothers words leave her mouth in little steamy puffs. Inwardly she just hoped the place had a heater that still worked, it was freezing!

"Nostalgia Dentistry. That has a ring to it." Her dad. Hermione smirked and bit her tongue again. She noted that their boots had knocked snow onto the hardwoods, and made mud of the dust as they walked. She wondered if cleaning this dump would truly make it any better.

"Granger et Granger Nostalgia Dental, Ces't Bon."

"G.G.N.D." Hermione was grinning now despite herself, because no matter what happened, they were in it together, like The Three Musketeers.

"Of course we'll need to update some of it immediately, but it's better then buying some of this from scratch!" Her mom said to her taking the opportunity to rub her back affectionately.

"So how do we get up stairs?" Hermione asked, hoping the apartment would be in better shape then the office level. The stairwell, they found after a lengthy search by torch-light, hidden behind a door that made it appear to be just another closet. It was the last of a cluster of mystery doors they opened tucked into the far left corner of the first floor.

Her mother complained in her soft way that she'd have appreciated the broker meeting them there. Hermione thought that maybe the Broker had been worried they'd try to back out of the sale. She also wondered privately if the Broker, or anyone at all had actually entered the premises since it closed, because there was at least 6 inches of dust covering everything!

The apartment above the old dental office was in as rough of shape as the office. Jean let out a long exhale like her father did before plastering a fake grin on for the sake of her daughter. Hermione knew without being told her mother was already feeling like she'd bitten off more then she could chew in this investment, but true to the family strain of stubbornness Jean said nothing to indicate such feelings.

In attempt to keep her mind busy, Hermione had started a tally of her sneezes on a small notepad that she retrieved fluidly from her back pocket right then. A pen was velcroed to it' front so even if she'd set it down the two parts would remain together. Each time she sneezed she'd slowly and deliberately clicked the pen open then marked her list, then slow and deliberately she'd click it again before stowing it all back in her pocket. She'd sneezed exactly 13 times since entering their newest home. It was a good thing she wasn't superstitious, for 13 sneezes and the knowledge that two people had died someplace in the apartment she'd have been badly off.

Now, she looked around curiously, mind afloat with questions like, where did _it_ happen? The dark stains on the wood floors answered her unspoken query. Meandering through the upstairs had left scuffs in the dust –covered floor and it became clear that 'it' had happened in the living room 'and' in the larger of the two bedrooms.

At the age of six Hermione was nothing like the typical child. She wasn't brash to making choices, and never asked questions she couldn't find the answer to her self. She spent the majority of her time with adults and in effect, had picked up quite an extensive vocabulary. She also knew how to properly manage and schedule herself. She never hankered for sugar with dentists for parents, which was good because she wasn't allowed sugars anyways!

She'd forgone the typical childhood landmarks of riding a bike or climbing trees all together and was content in following directions and in making self improvements.

Her actions and tendencies on the whole mimicked a much older person, and for that her parents had been grateful. Struggling through working and school whilst raising her the Grangers had managed to mold an extremely focused and independently minded young lady. She could read and write and debate, and she took pride in hard work, and learned to be efficient in whatever task or challenge was thrown her way.

Unless you counted her parents she had absolutely no friends, but somehow like everything else she'd come to accept the fact peacefully enough. At her primary school she had entertained herself entirely through playtime with a book and regardless of the bullying she incurred, remained intact in her personal choices.

There was also the fact that she was different, that she could do things, things that couldn't' be explained rationally. She could summon things for instance, or sometimes when she was too tired to get out of bed and knock the lights off herself, it just happened. Her parents studiously tried to un-see these things as they happened, and being exceptionally perceptive she knew better then to ask questions.

"The apartment boasts 928 sq. ft., two spacious bedrooms, and one full bath! And wait until you see the view, there's an enchanting underside of the overpass out the front windows, and a whimsical alley out the back!" Her mother sung out playfully as she showed Hermione around in the rose-colored lenses of a Relator.

Hermione played along after her own observations, "the kitchen while small, makes effective use of the space with its placement of cabinetry and counters!"

"The modest dining nook may have difficulty containing your small circular table and it's three chairs, but you'll never need to raise your voices to hear each other!" Her mom put in.

"Though the common room is darker then preferable, the wood panels coupled with the light color of the hardwoods will make it worthy of snuggling up with a book and a blanket." Hermione's mother grinned happily at her last assessment, while some families sat around watching t.v. and movies, the Grangers were a house of bookworms happily contented in reading books. They each had a favorite seat and blanket, and often they discussed their reading over meals.

"Well, not so bad, eh pumpkin?" Her dad came to join them.

"It's going to need a lot of work." Hermione leveled with him.

"Luckily we know someone who is always very particular and thorough." Her mom winked at her.

"Oh come on then, we'll have this place cleaned up in no time!" Hermione.

" C'est l'idée ! " ("That's the spirit!") Jean exclaimed before trudged into the smaller of the two bedrooms, "Lets focus on cleaning up the bedrooms first, so we don't feel like a bunch of squatters come morning!"

Hermione understood the scope of her task and cleaning her bedroom came without complaint. She'd always taken a lot of pride in the spaces she inhabited. Having learned by example from parents who had to work so hard for every dime they earned had instilled her with a great amount of grit.

Working systematically from top to bottom, she progressed through the tasks with the patience and due diligence of a child well beyond her years. First, she cleared the cobwebs from the corners and the ceiling on a ladder. Next, she cleaned then the walls with a rag dipped in vinegar and baking soda. She rinsed the rag and cleaned out the windowsills before doing the glass. Finally, she scrubbed the floors. She'd even polished the door knob before she felt fully satisfied.

Thoroughly sore and exhausted, she accepted a deli sandwich gratefully as her mother joined her to admire her work later that evening. She'd have never asked her out loud, but she wondered while scrubbing her floors if her mother would cover up the stains in her room with a carpet, or if they smelled like blood still.

The heater by then had begun to heat the place about a hour earlier, and her dad had also gotten the electricity and plumbing up and running while he'd been unloading. Much like the windows in the truck the single pane glass had gone foggy with moisture from the difference in temperature between the outside and in.

"How'd we get so lucky to have a daughter like you? It's night and day in here." Jean said proudly, unwrapping her own sandwich. Hermione beamed at the praise then unwrapped her own dinner, it smelt heavenly! Though… she could have eaten the tail end of a Rhino she was so hungry!

"What's next?" She asked after a ravenous bite.

"Oy! Girl after my own heart!" Her dad showed up, hefting a twin mattress set into her room. He was covered in grim and his brow sweating from unloading the moving van all day. There was fresh snow in his dark hair.

"Over here," Hermione jumped up to point to the corner by the window. It looked out into the alley but there was a sliver of sky there too, and she planned on watching the snowfall as she went to sleep.

"Have it planned out already?" Her dad laughed. "I'm not surprised. Where would you like your dresser pumpkin?"

"By the door, and the bookshelves right here beside the nightstand thanks." By habit she gestured as she spoke, and her parents shared and entertained smile. Back at their old place she'd used the fold out sofa for a bed, so having her own bed, and bedroom was a huge deal!

"Aren't you ambitious!" Her mom complimented her father, than put her sandwich down in a hurry. "Oh Rich honey, let me help you with that dresser!" Her mom followed her dad out of the room. In their absence Hermione took the opportunity to scarf down the sandwich like a heathen.

Their hard work paid off. By midnight, they had both of the bedrooms assembled, and the beds made up with all the fixings. All of the furniture and boxes had been emptied out of the truck and routed to their appropriate positions, and her dad had at some point procured a crowbar, and pulled the front boards loose from the windows of the shop below. Already, after just one long day, it was beginning to resemble a home.

Hermione didn't need anyone to tell her to go to bed, yawning she shuffled over to each of her parents and gave them a kiss and hug goodnight.

"Night sweetheart." Her mom said through a yawn of her own.

"Night pumpkin." Her dad echoed, unable to move now that he'd finally sat down. He had his legs hoisted up on a stool and was looking more disheveled then she had ever seen him. With one last look at the place she left them to it.

Never having a room of her own Hermione felt strange shutting the door, awkwardly she looked around feeling a little lonely. So this was it… a new room, a new life, and an adventure in a town where they knew no one… except each other. As she spun in a circle her eyes snagged once more on the closet. It had happened so fast but she swore she'd seen something glimmering there just then! Fast as she'd done a double take, it had gone. Hermione shook her head assuming it was a trick of the eyes, a very tired set of eyes. Yes, that was it, she was so tired that she was imagining mysterious lights! She snorted to herself, if this was what exhaustion did to you, it was no wonder she had no interest in playing sports!

Hermione hefted her travel bag onto her bed and rooted through it, in search of something to sleep in. "Ah-ha!" She exclaimed happily at sight of the PJ's she pulled out first, her red flannel nightgown, covered with silly little penguins. They were all wearing woolen scarves and hats, and most were depicted in building snowmen or else throwing snowballs. She'd packed it on a whim because it was usually too warm to sleep in. With the sudden snow, and the half heated home, it seemed like a dream come true at present.

Quickly she slipped it on and she fell into her bed heavily. A bed of her own! She laughed out loud. It was far less squeaky then the couch had been! Waving a hand in the direction of the light switch the lights went out with an audible click. She didn't care how odd she was- nor did she question something that had worked so perfectly in her favor at that moment. Snuggling into the blankets she relaxed into her new luxury, contented by chunky flakes falling in a hurry. Her lids grew heavy and her eyes closed with the excitement of tomorrow fresh in her mind.

 **July 13** **th** **: 1899 : 12:01 p.m. : Department of Mysteries: Saul Croaker**

It began as a low whine, a sound that seemingly started from nothing, but a sound that in the end magnified to a high-pitched scream that was reminiscent of a train whistle. With the end of the whistle came a tremendous boom and an explosion that knocked Saul Croaker clear off his feet.

Saul had been working on a time experiment when it had happened. He'd been carefully measuring exact amounts, and at first he'd assumed he must have mixed his ratios wrong, but when he righted himself he noted the explosion had happened much deeper into their convoluted department for his experiment was unaffected if not spilled cross his lab station.

All around him he heard the groans of his co-workers recovering in their own spaces, and the strange sounds that accompanied their unspeakable work. He wondered briefly what Huber was dealing with in the Hall of Prophecies, or Gibbons in the brain lab. Saul pulled himself to his feet and smoothed his hair back into place. A blast like that, he imagined the whole of the Ministry of Magic would have felt it!

It wasn't long before the second wave followed the first. Great billowing clouds of golden smoke filled the rooms like a debilitating mustard gas and he immediately felt woozy. His skin started to crawl and his stomach flipped uncomfortably like a man in love. It was at that moment he understood what must have happened.

Without extra thoughts Saul fumbled for the exit, but he couldn't run fast enough. It was like one of those dreams where you need to move but your legs are stuck. Now, his legs felt leaden and his body argued with his mind.

Eloise Mintumble (his department partner) scrambled around the corner and into view. Normal perfectly poised, she was floundering and sloppy on her feet, her cheeks pink from exertion. Determined to match his pace she clumsily slipped at a run at his side. In their race to escape the Department of Mysteries she shouted at him, "It's Room 9…Hershel is totally knocked out!"

"Where is he? Did you try to help him?" Croaker incredulous.

"He's back in the junction…I didn't think it was safe to linger!" She defended.

Croaker doubled back at once and made for Hershel. Eloise stopped reluctantly then on second thought continued her own path for the exit alone. Truly, he had no desire to be bowled over by magic but it hardly seemed fair to leave a man behind, a man who also happened to be their boss! Furthermore, too much time spent exposed to what lay behind door number 9 couldn't be good- even if door number 9 lead to the room of love.

When he arrived, the door to room 9 was completely gone, obliterate. It's wood was splintered across the floor like confetti, and in the air, tendrils of wispy golden smoke snaked around like vines. Croaker felt a tight pressure building in his chest, and all at once he wanted to dance joyfully, or else lay on the floor and wait for death. He wasn't sure. He was claimed by the desire to run, but also the urge to rescue Hershel.

Hershel was convulsing in the junction that serviced most of their offices. He was grey faced and his long lanky hair was splayed out around him like a greasy halo. Laid flat across the crème colored tiles, the drops of his blood, and splashes of vomit stood out.. His mouth hung open and he seemed to be chocking on air, and his eyes had rolled back into his head so that you could only see the whites.

Acting on instinct Croaker cast a spell to remove the other doors in the junction, and molded them midair to create a thick barricade, that he levitated it into place, effectively blocking off the room number 9 again. As he watched the metal fixings adhere to the wall at the hinges he also willed the locks to snap shut and added another few extra in precaution. The door shuttered several times like it was alive and then at last relented.

Saul felt as though someone suddenly and brutally had torn his heart out. He felt aimless and reaching… and then he spotted Hershel again. "Must get out." He whispered to himself encouragingly. Rather sluggishly he cast, "levicorpulus." and Hershel lifted into the air onto an invisible stretcher. Croaker took off running again. His legs, unlike his mind, needed no convincing and he raced from the area despite the fact that his limbs were feeling heavier by the minute.

As they came around the corner he took a bypass through the Hall of Prophecies to save time and stopped dead in his tracks. There, near the front, where the very oldest prophecies were stored, was a light bursting from one in particular. It was rattling around in place like a caged animal. He visually noted it for later contemplation. Aisle 1. Shelf 7. Marker 27.

Stumbling onward, his breathing became ragged. Hershel had long since gone limp, but his vitals seemed intact So by the time he made it back into the time room, he'd begun to wonder at what catastrophic event could have occurred to cause such mayhem. Surely some massive power must have been released! Piecing it together in his ever calculative mind he fell into a heap in the hallway outside the department, exhausted.

"Thank gods!" Eloise said rushing forward to give him a hand. Saul felt confused by her sudden coddling and assumed the room was to blame. Love wasn't predictable, it effected everyone in a very different way. Luckily, Medi-witches were already on site, and Hershel was in their capable hands before he could say a word. Eloise lingered beside him looking rather torn up and he caught eyes with her for a moment to reassure her he was fine.

"Is there anyone else inside?" An Auror, Melvin Moody asked urgently. He was already in the process of barricading the department off.

"No." Eloise said with certainty. "Only 6 in today, Timmons is on extended sick leave with Dragon Pox."

"Any reason we should evacuate the Ministry as a whole?" Moody asked at a precautionary measure.

"No, the problem was located and taken care of swiftly. Lingering effects should be confined to the Department of Mysteries so long as this hall is warded." Croaker answered himself.

"Good. Then all of you off to Mungo's. I expect you'll have a plan on how and when it's safe to re-enter?"

"Yes," Eloise said vaguely. Saul could see Moody was irritated. Auror's worked to prevent issues, and they had provided him with no details to satisfy his need for control. As Unspeakables there was a lot of vagueness required in interdepartmental communication, their work, while valuable was often scuffed about due to its highly secretive nature, despite the fact that they produced answers and avenues otherwise unavailable. Feared and ridiculed more often then accepted, they were commonly beguiled about meddling with things people felt shouldn't be meddled with.

"I'll expect hospital discharge notes before re-entrance." Moody said gruffily.

"Of course," Croaker and Eloise said in unison.

 **oOo**

"What did you see when you went back?" Eloise was quick to ask once they were alone hours later. The day had been a long one, even for Unspeakable standards. Saul had been given a clean bill of health at long last, and now he waited along side Eloise for the healers to give them official discharge papers for work.

"Well?" She pressed impatiently, tapping her long crimson nails on her chair arm. While extraordinarily bright, Eloise lacked tack and above all other things patience. Her own desires always came first and it was for that reason she'd been able to run from the department without a backwards glance at their colleague, and department head Hershel. Hershel was at that very moment hovering between life and death and she didn't seem the slightest bit worried.

"You know with Timmons out with the pox… that makes me departmental head in Hershel's absence." Croaker swallowed back a biting retort. How could she be thinking about her title at a time like this? After several deep breaths he told her about what he'd experienced first hand and also what he expected to learn on re-entrance.

"You say the door was completely gone?" She marveled at him.

"Obliterated. No, trace." He confirmed in a whisper.

"Aisle 1. Shelf 7. Marker 27? That'll be 10th century or so, won't it?"

"How do you even recall things like that?" He implored. The Hall of Prophecies wasn't their given area of research, however it was the area in which Eloise had begun in two years before he'd joined the department himself.

"I've always been interested in the earlier prophecies," she shrugged without expanding, in that vague fashion they'd all mastered over the years of working as Unspeakables. Saul eyed the secretary, and then his watch. He was exhausted, though half of him wanted to investigate the root of the accident, the other half wanted to draw the curtains and sleep right there in the lobby.

"Going back?" Eloise egged him on. He could see clearly enough it was her own plan. When the papers came, she smirked at him and pulled him to his feet by the hand. She'd won, by simple request. He held her hand surprised by the warmth he found there. It was going to be a long night with Eloise leading the way, of that he was certain.

 **July 13** **th** **1899: Noon: Outskirts of Godric's Hollow (What Will Become Mellingham): Hermione Granger**

Hermione twisted, turned and squinted against the light. Why had she chosen to put her bed by the window? She groaned in annoyance and moved her arm up to cover her face, then shifted. She wasn't one to whine usually, but her bed felt as hard as stone and her body ached from the strains of cleaning and unpacking the previous day. Knowing she had another day of similar strains, she was in absolutely no rush to wake up.

Really! What ever had possessed her to place her bed by the window? To be fair she'd have never expected and alley side room to get so much light by day...especially in the shadow of the overpass! She'd be moving it first thing, that was for sure!

Stubborn as ever, she kept her eyes closed tight and tried turning again in an attempt to get comfortable. Absently, she swatted at what felt like a blade of grass tickling her ear, than sat bolt upright like she'd been electrocuted. She felt her jaw drop open in shock as she took in her unexpected surroundings. Surely she was dreaming!

Gone was her bed and the small apartment, gone was the overpass and the clustered buildings lined up in either direction. Now, she found herself mysteriously seated in a small meadow, overgrown with grass and wild flowers, honey bee's and dragon flies darted past her in abandon, encircled by towering trees and forest for as far as her eyes could see.

Hermione pulled at the collar of her flannel nightgown and the felt sweat drip down her spine. Much too hot for December, she thought and yet there she was in the grass, in a field. The perfumed air filling her lungs with the smell of wildflowers, and the sky was blue and bright as a robins egg. Very deliberately she pinched herself. "That hurt," she whispered despite the fact that there was no one to hear her anyways. In fact, there were no signs of people in any direction!

Standing up, her bare feet sunk into the dirt and the overgrown grass tickled her legs. "Mom," she shouted, though she didn't expect for them to answer. "Dad!" She tried again in vain. Nothing, her heartbeat picked up a notch, and she felt panic rush over her. Where on earth was she? How had she gotten here? Where were her parents? She craned around for minutes trying to comprehend it all.

Her dads words from the day before came back to haunt her then, "Crazy to think this used to all be a forest huh?" No, the thought was Ludacris, it was impossible to travel in time! She was dreaming… that explained it, she was just trapped in a horrible dream!

Always a person of action she took off walking, after all she wasn't going to figure out anything standing alone in a field, even if she was dreaming! Careful of what lay underfoot she tried to walk in a straight line while she internally reflected on the madness of her situation. Nothing like this had ever happened to her!

She wasn't sure how long it took, but clinging desperately to the hope that she was in fact dreaming and unable to wake up, she reached a rather beaten looking cobblestone road. Hot and bothered, she wiped the sweat from her brow and looked down both directions. Off to the right, far off in the distance she could make out structures and houses. Seeing nothing in the opposite direction she resigned herself to walking the distance to the right.

The stones were far too hot to walk on, once she left the tree cover so she ended up in the dirt beside it. And as she moved along she debated her next issue. They'd only just moved into their new home in Mellingham, so there wasn't even a phone hooked up yet! In the very least she could tell the police where she needed to go to reach her family, she assumed their couldn't be too many dental offices near town.

Her hopes of using a phone, or of finding the police fled her mind however as things became more bizarre. Why was it suddenly so hot? Hadn't it had been snowing buckets the day before? Why did the roads look so dated? Where were all the cars and buses? Why wasn't there a single the lamp post or the telephone pole? Why was there not one airplane flying overhead? Curiously, it was notably and startlingly quiet. Even libraries held more noise then this place!

It felt like hours by the time Hermione reached the outskirts of a small village. There were sheep dotting the tall grasses by what appeared to be a farm. Her feet were blistered and bleeding by then, and her nightgown clung to her like a wet napkin. When she reached the first house, a woman came out the front door and examined her in what could only be described as shock. She walked right out to her as if her vision was betraying her, and poked her with a finger tentatively as if seeing a ghost.

The woman was just as much of a shock to Hermione. Dressed in what she assumed must be costume, the woman was wearing a very out dated, floor length, pale pink linen dress. It had a fitted bodice, and she'd tied on an apron, and was even wearing a bonnet! It all looked to be in immaculate condition however, and it was so strange a contrast to normal attire! Fairly, Hermione thought, her stage costume seemed more adequate for the environment then her penguin night-gown, because she wasn't sweating or limping about.

"Hello," Hermione began in her typical formal, yet frank fashion. "I'm Hermione Granger, and I'm lost, and I hoped I could use your telephone to help me find my parents."

The woman's head shrunk back into her neck like a turtle, and she continued to look at her as though she was a figment of her imagination. Methodically Hermione switched to French and repeated her request.

"English." The woman didn't immediately answer. "And… I heard you fine, I'm just still trying to make sense of you is all." She said stiffly. Ignoring her questions she crossed her arms over her chest and looked down the road for others. Fixing Hermione with another suspicious glance she began with her own questions.

"Where is it you come from exactly? Did your carriage break down on the road? There isn't anything back that way for a good distance, and you haven't even got any shoes on." It was true. Hermione had no shoes on, nor socks, and her feet were covered in dirt and cut in several places at this point.

"Might I have some water while you make sense of me?" She asked.

The women regarded her another moment before nodding, than she collected herself and gestured for Hermione to follow. Having never been on a farm before she couldn't help gaping around at everything as she went. It wasn't just the novelty of the farm, it was as though she'd woken up hundreds of years earlier! Everything from the construction of the fences, to the horse and buggy geared up out front were definitely not used in London at present. Perhaps this was just country living? She eyeballed the watering trough curiously, and also the oil lamps set along the front porch.

"I'm Millicent, Millie for short," the woman interrupted her thoughts as they reached the front porch. "Sit right there if you like," She instructed her all the while pointing at a wooden rocker. "Marty, you'd better come out here and see this!" She shouted for him from the front door.

"See her," Hermione corrected quietly, annoyed at being made a spectacle, though trying not to be rude.

"See her," the women said turning to eye her speculatively again. Marty (her husband) was dressed in the same dated fashion, and had a mustache that curled up on the ends. His hair was neat and trimmed and parted down the center. His thin brows rose to his hairline as he took her in.

"Gracious child what are you wearing? And, where are your shoes?

"I'm not sure where my shoes have gotten off too, and I'm not sure where I am either… I woke up in a field back along that road, and I'm just trying to get home."

"Is that right?" He set his hand to his chin as he regarded her. There was skepticism in his eyes she didn't miss, but she didn't comment on either. "Maybe I should pay a visit to city hall and see if we can't get the Constable out here to assist you. Obviously you aren't where you need to be."

"Thank you sir," Hermione offered him a grateful smile. She stood as he passed her, to show her respect, and as she did her stomach made it's presence known by growling loudly.

"Heavens Millie, get this girl some water and a bite of something to eat." Then he was gone.

 **AN: Thanks for reading! Please review if you've got a second!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Ch. 2**

 **AN: Thanks to everyone for reading my first chapter! It's really exciting to submit something finally and even more exciting to know someone's read it!**

 **Thanks to; Jlove34 & Harmonic Wisp for reviewing! **

**July 13** **th** **1899- 3pm: Godric's Hollow : Henry Potter**

Henry Potter's cheeks pinched with annoyance as he reaffixed his hat for the 3rd time in less then five minutes. Societal standards be damned, ifhis hat left his head once more he mightjust set it ablaze! As a result of his recent work on hair tonics his already unmanageable mess of raven black hair had grown to astounding proportions in both volume and texture. In only a few short months it had become such a bothersome barnet that wearing a hat now seemed foolhardy! Big hair was the _exact opposite_ effect to which he'd been working towards, ever the optimist however, he'd already worked out an alternative for the botched mixture, providing there was any left after the explosion…

Henry had been working hard as a house elf brewing the same experimental potion for months, and he'd rarely left his lab since winter. Today had been disastrous! Things had horribly gone wrong when he'd tried blending Gomas Barbadensis with the hair of a Welch Green Dragon. The tragic end to his potion was the root cause of the billowing clouds of thick yellow smoke still issuing from his windows. The stench too had packed a punch, a cross between dragon dung and burnt hair. So foul the mess and the smell that wife Persephone (usually calm and easy going) had chased him out with her broomstick, shrieking like a banshee. Schooled effectively in clear view of the neighbors, he'd been sent on his way with instructions to take the boys and stay out of her sight as long as he could manage. Henry was grateful he lived in a relatively quiet town, for only a few people had witnessed the commotion.

Even for a person raised, and groomed for the family profession, it was an odd business, being a Potioneer. The amount of solitude required to fully concentrate on the careful preparations and the time sensitive steps and brewing meant he was usually oblivious to much of what went on outside his lab. Some days he felt at complete odds with the world. His wife luckily had accepted his reclusive nature early on in their relationship but sometimes he worried after the wellbeing of her own social life.

Thrust out into the fresh air with his young son and his nephew in tow he felt giddy at being out in public so suddenly. While the summer heat was comparable to his lab, he felt more then a little self-conscious of the way he was squinting like a bat exposed to daylight. Having missed the season of spring entirely, his overly pale skin tingled, and flushed in immediate response to the hard summer sun, he didn't doubt he'd burn. Truth-be-told, despite the lovely perfumed breeze being carried in from the English countryside he felt more then a bit eager to return to his hot and pungent little dragon's lair.

Henry pulled him self from his musings to rush after his son. "Flea, stop right there!" Fleamont was nearing two and had transitioned from tottering about to running in the span of a few months. A little ball of energy there was little you could do to keep him in one place for long so his parenting strategy had become an all-consuming effort of re-directing him from trouble. Castor (his nephew) was the fuel to Flea's fire, always leading him into experiences he wasn't quite old enough to handle. Castor was his brother's son, and a rather mischievous boy he was! He was rambunctious and spoiled rotten, though Henry could hardly say his own son wanted for anything either!

Fleamont was Henry's mother's maiden name, with no male heir to continue the name, the pureblooded line had gone extinct the day she'd wed his father, and accordingly became a Potter. Per her request they'd named their son to honor her family, though the name had been a hot debate between he and his wife. Having grown up with a complicated name herself, Persephone and her sister Heliotrope had endured more then their fair shares of jibes over the years. Both preferred simpler names for children as an effect but in the end she'd relented for the families sake. However, acceptance did not come without her warning that he'd be teased, and as usual his wife had been right to worry, for the name already caused snickers and he'd only just turned two! Furthermore he'd been given the nickname _Flea_.

Crossing the road, Henry pulled Flea from a hedge and set him to walking again. Flea made a sound like dragon and took off running with his hands held out to the sides. Henry pivoted and plucked the stick from Castors hand next, then tossed it out of reach. Castor groaned dramatically, pulled a flower from the hedge in protest, and then smashed it under his heel with a grin.

"Castor," Henry said in warning tone. Castor rolled his eyes in answer.

Living along the edge of Godric's Hollow meant that he straddled the magical and non-magical communities. Most of the Muggle population concentrated into the farms that circled the city boundaries, but three of his four immediate neighbors in town were also Muggles so he'd grown used to conversing with them over the years despite having been raised in Hogsmeade. While some wizards abhorred them Henry had never minded them much. In fact he enjoyed his interactions with them because it always promised something new and exciting. Even the most mundane things seemed a foreign delight in his book.

"Henry," His neighbor Rodger Davies called out having caught sight of him. Rodger was about two decades older and was the type to brag about his accomplishments. Rodger had a garden worth the envy of any Potioneer! It was stocked with every medicinal, and otherwise magical plant he could get away with in front of Muggles… everything he couldn't, he grew in the greenhouse out back.

"Rodger," Henry greeted, eyes on his troublesome duo. "Nice day for a walk."

"Hotter then a boiling cauldron you mean?" Rodger laughed. "Say, did the ministry stun a dragon in your yard not long ago or was that tremendous bang I heard just now one of your doing? In either case, I imagine it's responsible for the troll like stench coming from that direction?" Henry smiled good-naturedly and cast an eye on Rodgers work. Rodger had an impressive variety of Muggle gardening apparatuses scattered about him on the lawn though his wand was tucked up his right sleeve. He was almost certain Davies had no idea what any of the tools were used for.

Quickly, Henry related the story of his botched potion, and had Rodger Davies in stitches by the end of it. "…so I'm free of fumes and now charged with wearing the boys out." He finished his tale, all the while looking back in the direction of his home, the yellow smoke had turned to a light grey now…, a promising sign his wife had it under control in his absence.

Rodger meanwhile, edged closer to him and then nodded up the road in the opposite direction. "Eloise Mintumble- just blew through- looking for some sort of disturbance."

"Mintumble you say?" Henry scratched his chin thinking of her. She'd been a 1st year when he'd been a 7th and he hadn't heard the name again since, though it was clear Rodger had.

"You know-" Rodger said lowering his voice to a conspiring whisper to avoid his wife overhearing. "That witch with the Unspeakables- legs up to here, and breasts out to here," he held his hands out in gesture way then groped at invisible nipples.

Henry laughed and held up his own hands to stop him from further damage for his wife now stood on the porch with a warning look. She waved to Henry and looked relieved to see him and not Eloise again.

"Henry," Tabitha greeted. "Some iced pumpkin juice perhaps?"

"Much obliged," he said politely declining. "I'm not sure the missus would appreciate me having a laugh and drinking juice whilst she's cleaning up my mess… not to mention I've got the boys."

Tabitha grinned and walked down to the fence line beside her husband. She caught sight of the boys and laughed out loud for Castor was tickling Fleamont with a flower and Flea had sneezed onto his face. Castor grimaced and wiped it clean with the back of his hand.

"Good luck with them. Run them down the road and back, they'll come home tired," she said speaking from experience. She had raised 2 boys of her own and they'd just graduated from Hogwarts recently.

"So what sort of disturbance are they looking for exactly?" Henry asked next for his curiosity had been piqued.

"Well Unspeakables never really _divulge_ do they?" Tabitha said in a biting tone. "For all we know _it could just be for show_ \- everyone knows that, that department is a complete waste of Ministry funding!"

"Oh Tabitha _dear_ ," Rodger laughed and waved her off. "Eloise said there was an explosion in the department, and that someone was sent to the hospital."

"Did she?" Tabitha said stiffly. "She said much more to you then me."

"Well I wasn't imagining her being dismembered before my eyes." Rodger said dryly.

"So-" Henry interrupted. "What exactly should we be looking for? Henry asked and Tabitha turned a questioning eye on her husband.

"Swirling golden dust and someone extremely powerful… possibly very… romantic" Rodger said.

"Romantic?" Tabitha and Henry asked at once.

"Oh I don't know what it means… she said there's a room in her department devoted to love, and that it had to do with that."

Henry and Tabitha looked at each other evaluating the statement. Then the topic was dropped as you would a conversation about the weather. Then together they watched Fleamont climb into another bush so deep that only his fat wrist was visible. Henry let out a sigh for he'd need to crawl in to retrieve him more then like while Tabitha left to answer a whistle from inside.

Rodger smirked doggedly at him once they were alone again. "Give my best to Eloise should you see her." With a parting wink Rodger waved him off Henry made off to retrieve his son.

 **July 13** **th** **1899\. 3:30 P.M. Outskirts of Godric's Hollow- Martin Oliver**

In the time that passed between leaving for city hall and returning, his wife Millie had managed to procure something suitable for the child to wear and now she sat primly in a rocking chair on the front porch like a woman well into her 90's.

To Marty's disappointment the Constable and Policemen had been called away urgently to assist in the next county over, the mayor himself had delivered the news to him, and had taken the message with instructions to keep the child safe until they could send someone to collect her. Marty had in the meantime, contented himself with a pipe and far too much tobacco. Stationed in one of two rocking chairs on the front porch, he watched her carefully as if still trying to make sense of her.

In the sweltering heat kids rushed up and down the street playing, a few even called out to her, but she sat resolutely waiting, providing them with polite declines and firm shakes of her head. Marty's thick and curled brows rose as he watched her. Ramrod still, she was so very different from children her own age. Perhaps this was the way "gifted" children behaved? Living on the border of Godric's Hollow, he'd witnessed a great number of things others might have pawned off for hallucinations, but Marty was rooted and solid as an old oak. He knew what went on in his small village. Knew that, what wasn't normal, happened far more then he cared to admit.

Marty leaned into his chair heavily and crossed his arms over his chest. He'd be lying if he said he didn't feel anxious to be rid of her. She was one of them. He _just_ knew it. He inhaled much too deeply out of nerves and coughed until his eyes watered, earning an admonishing look from the child. He shook his head. The tobacco usually calmed and focused him but now he was smoking into excess without effect, the squirming uneasy feeling in his gut only getting worst. He looked up in desperation, straining to see up the road for any signs of the Constable.

"Do you have anything to read?" She asked him as if it was normal for a child her age to read, none-the-less _a girl_ child.

"You read?" he asked astonished.

"Of course I read! I'm six!" She was bristled and he decided she reminded him of a swotty old cat.

"Oh," he humored her, assuming she was bluffing. She must be! "Of course you must read." _Being like them_ , he thought inwardly. "You'll need to forgive me for not knowing, Millie doesn't read at all and I rarely pick up books myself since school years… haven't exactly got the time."

Martin contemplated the repercussions mentally. Sure it was only a book… but these people never did as you expected them to! Perhaps she didn't plan on reading the book at all… maybe she'd set it on fire with her eyes or make a plant grow from it's cover. The girl looked at him with what he considered a mixture of confusion and pity and began thumping her foot impatiently, and he relented at last and led him to his small collection. It consisted of a solid 13 books and after a small stretch of time she was back on the porch in a rocker, settled nicely into, "Oliver Twist," by Charles Dickens. Said book had been a gift from a friend purely based on the title. "Oliver" being his surname. Waste of money if he was being truthful, because he couldn't claim that he'd much enjoyed the book. And in his opinion, pick-pockets and thieves seemed ill suited reading for a 6 year old but she seemed happy enough to read it and he was relieved that she was contained and under control. He stood and made to move indoors to leave her too it when his neighbor called out to him.

Henry Potter had a natural bounce to his step, and if his clothes were any indication, he was one of them for sure. All the same he'd always been very polite and rather conservative and Marty valued both qualities in a neighbor.

"Marty Oliver," greeted Henry is his ever-chipper voice. He stood on the border of the lawn with two small boys.

"Is that the Constable?" Mille questioned loudly from inside.

"No, it's Henry. Henry Potter and the boys," He returned. It had been a long while since he'd seen Henry, and now that he looked at him he couldn't help but wonder at how wild his hair had become. It looked three times his usual cut… far more growth then could have been accomplished over a few short months.

"Looking for the Constable? Is everything alright?" Henry.

"Fine and well as can be with us- it's this one I'm concerned for… she's lost it seems." Marty gestured at her. "Hey- you girl" the Marty beckoned her closer and Mr. Potter quickly looked her over.

Henry's mouth dropped open as he took her in. "Your hair is a riotous mess." He said happily.

"I beg your pardon!" Hermione burst out. "Pot calling the kettle black, wouldn't you say?"

Marty snorted. Hermione's bushy nest of curls hadn't taken to the humidity well and had doubled in size since she'd arrived earlier. Millie had offered to braid it but the girl said it would only make it worst- though he wasn't sure if that was possible.

"Never seen her before," Henry told him then added, "but… a women from the ministry has been looking for someone in this area… I don't see how a girl _her_ age could possibly fit the bill however…" Mr. Potter said.

"Excuse me, Sirs, but I would greatly appreciate it if you didn't talk about me like I wasn't present, _or worst_ , like I couldn't possibly comprehend the context of what is coming out of your mouth."

Henry looked at her in clear astonishment. "How old did you say you were?"

"I hadn't," she asserted herself, hands flying up to settle onto her hips. "But if that's your way of asking I'm 6… just turned." Henry's boys who had been contented in watching his chickens up until this point decided Hermione was far more interesting and meandered up the front stairs to join them.

In light of the strange and overly serious girl, and the overall situation being so very odd and terse, Millie suddenly began to laugh. It was a nervous trait really, but her laugh (at first timid and embarrassed soon gave way to a deep bellied variety) that brought them all into a laughing fit.

Hermione stiffened further, pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes-which only made them all laugh harder. "Please- enjoy yourselves at my expense!"

"Oh! Beg our pardon but its not every day a girl of 6 chastises you like a school teacher." Henry laughed again.

Hermione raised her chin defiantly. "Maybe this ministry woman can be of more help to me."

"Perhaps," Henry said evenly. He tipped his hat at the old fashioned couple. "If you don't mind keeping the boys for a stich I could find Eloise and bring her back this way? My wife's cleaning up a rather large mess at present and I'll not be allowed back with the kids for a long while, if they all played together I could find her faster."

Martin's shock mirrored Millie's and for a moment they stared at the children speculating what they were getting themselves into. However the sooner this Ministry woman arrived the better…

 **July 13** **th** **,1899. 6:30 pm – Oliver Farm, Outskirts of Godric's Hollow: Hermione Granger.**

As if waking up alone, lost and forced to become dependent on out-of-this-world strangers wasn't enough to deal with, now she had Castor Potter. Castor was roughly her age by looks alone and was wearing a cape like his uncle. He'd begun rambling on about his house and all the things he could do as soon as his uncle had left, and as though the thread of their conversation had unnerved them the Oliver's had retreated indoors and seemed content on keeping tabs on them from the front window.

Fleamont was his cousin and his uncle Henry's son, Castor had explained- even though she hadn't asked. Actually with her book laid out on her lap and eyes focused on anything but them- she was feeling quite irritated at his lack of personal cues. Her body language screamed, leave me alone! Really what she wanted most of all was to fall asleep from all of this nonsense and wake up in her bed. As it were Castor had pulled up a chair not inches from her own, and had further prevented her from rocking all together. Fleamont blessedly was running the length of the porch happily contented with the way the wood creaked as he moved.

Hermione sighed and swatted at Castors hand again. He was playing a game with her patience and kept trying to steal her book. She shot him a look of pure annoyance. "Do you mind?"

"How can you sit there like that? You're boring." He smiled when he gained her attention at long last.

"How pleasant your company is. Don't you have anything better to do?" She cast about for a sign of Mr. Potter then sighed loudly.

"Like read a book?" Castor teased, clearly bored by the idea. "You aren't exactly sharing anyways."

"Get your own book." She snapped. "They have others inside- just ask."

"Why would I? I can't read anyways." He announced with a wave of his hand.

"Then why are you trying to take mine?"

He laughed in response and she felt her cheeks flush red. "So where are you parents?" he asked.

"If I knew where they were I wouldn't be stuck on this porch with you waiting on the constable and this ministry woman would I?"

"Stuck with me?" he snorted. "You should feel lucky I'm here."

"Is that right?" she clipped, attention shifting to the baby. Fleamont was pulling on the front of her dress and had started to whine. "Up."

Hermione felt a little nervous about holding a baby and looked up at Castor for help.

But Castor shrugged and turned to look out at the horses as though he'd not been nagging her restlessly before. Hermione chewed her lower lip for a moment then neatly set the book down preserving the page with a handkerchief she'd been provided with by Millie as part of her dated and rather stage like costume. Hermione hadn't any cousins, nor had she siblings to reference the proper way to handle a baby, but Flea didn't seem to care about this so tentatively she pulled the boy onto her lap and he let out a contented squeal. She grinned like she'd passed a test. Flea stood up on her lap and she held him around his base to steady him and he walked the span of her legs to come flush up to her body then he touched her nose with his chubby little finger. "Nose."

"That's right!" she said happily. "Aren't you smart?"

Flea pulled at her hair in response and before she could even think to stop him he'd grabbed two fistfuls and began to yank at them like cow utters and sing. His grip was surprisingly strong for a baby! Face smothered in his chest, she tried in vain to pull him off.

Castor laughed loudly and fell from his chair clutching his sides.

"Help me," she shrieked at him, but despite her pleas for his help- he did nothing but enjoy the display.

Furthering the shock and displeasure of the situation Flea began to kiss her forehead. Great slobbery kisses that ruffled her eye brows and leaked down her cheeks like a cold sweat.

Mr. Potter returned just at the right time, with the woman from the ministry behind him he helped extract his son from her. Chuckling at her disgruntled expression, he related a story involving his son and his own hair. Then, holding the squirming bundle that was Flea, he finally introduced the Oliver's to the pair of Ministry Employees.

"Eloise Mintumble, and this is Saul Croaker." The woman returned in an authoritative manner sweeping past Hermione like a household pest.

Eloise had large, wide set blue eyes lined with startling green striations. Her hair was a glossy sheet of ebony that was neatly braided and fell easily past her waistline. Her dress was cherry red and was far more form fitted then Millicent's and revealed much more cleavage then necessary. Saul Croaker was very young looking though it could have been his white blonde hair. He had it combed from one ear to the either like a cap and he was rather notably awkward. He seemed considerably irritated by Eloise's words and actions. Both of them were wearing capes like the Potters, and they also carried batons at their sides like orchestra leaders.

Hermione stood up to her full height and held her hand out to shake in formal greeting, then huffed indignantly at being looked over entirely. Observing her outstretched hand Marty added, "and this is Hermione Jean Granger, she's just turned 6 and reading already." He emphasized last part with raised brows.

Hermione sent Marty a look of gratitude, and added, "You're with the ministry then?" Eloise cast her with a quick appraising look she didn't much appreciate. And sensing another outburst, Henry asked Castor to take Fleamont to look at the chickens some more. After more then a few complaints Castor left kicking up dust as he went.

"Would you mind holding my wand Hermione?" Eloise said at last.

"Wand is it?" Hermione quipped, "here I thought you were with the orchestra." Her joke was missed on the ministry officials entirely, though the Oliver's smiled appreciatively.

Humoring her, though she didn't understand how it would help her find her parents, Hermione took the offered wand from this Eloise's slim fingers. As soon as she held it in her grasp it shot off red sparks! She might have dropped it out of shock had she not been claimed by the unexpected urge to grip it harder. A strange feeling crept up her spine and caused her to shiver. All around her the air began to crack with electricity and her already big hair rose statically around her like a lions mane. Then all at once small and mesmerizing spirals of gold burst from its tip and swirled lazily before her eyes like tiny fairies. Her mouth fell open with wonder.

"Miss Hermione," Eloise said in unflattering disbelief. "Might I interest you in visiting my office at the ministry?" Her head had dropped to the side, and her face changed into an alluring promise.

"Will it help me find my parents?"

"Well it's better then sitting around here in the very least," Eloise said in way that signaled she could care less one way or the other. After a short internal debate that took being stuck on this porch with Castor any longer into serious consideration Hermione agreed. "Alright then." Eloise said in an entirely different manner, she straightened up like a bargain had been signed in blood she gestured impatiently for her wands return. A tremor ran down her arm and her hair fell back into place as she handed over the wood.

"She's one of you then," Marty said wearily to Henry. Before Hermione could question what he meant by it by "one of you." Eloise cut in.

"Yes." Then she shot her partner a significant look then began spouting off orders. "Henry, meet me down at the Ministry as soon as you're able it's best if we don't delay… it's already getting late after all. Croaker can tell you how to reach my office, or better yet he can take you himself once he's done…" She looked briefly at the Oliver's and offered them a placating smile. "Now, Croaker please take the Oliver's inside and explain our… process." It was clear Saul wasn't as comfortable as she with the prospect of _the process_ , however he nodded in a nervous sort of a way and did as he was told.

Recognizing haste, Hermione thanked the Oliver's quickly for helping her and with one last look at the book followed Eloise's lead off the front porch. The witch took Hermione's hand part way down the front stairs and led her around to the side of the house. Once they were out of sight, she crouched down low enough to meet her eyes. "Whatever you feel, keep hold of my hand… this will only take a moment."

Eloise's vague instructions didn't prepare her for what happened next. It was as though she was being squeezed through a small bottle and an unbidden scream issued from her lips. Lights flashed around her and a horrible jarring motion caught her next. As soon as the feeling passed her knees buckled and she fell roughly onto the sidewalk. Eloise rolled her eyes as if she'd been overly dramatic.

Hermione gasped out from her place on the ground. On all fours, she stared around at the concrete sidewalk in utter disbelief, she'd been on a dirt path not a moment earlier!

"Up you go," Eloise said with little emotion though her eye twitched with annoyance at the looks she was receiving from the people passing by.

Aghast, Hermione ignored the woman's reaction and allowed herself a looksee from her knees. Just like magic, they'd left the farm all together! Gone were the Oliver's and their bustling farm. Not a chicken in sight, or within ears reach and their old beaten farmhouse completely vanished! Climbing to her feet she turned in a full circle and started, "But that… that's the tower of London!" She pointed.

"Is it?" Eloise had already begun walking.

"How did we get here?" Hermione questioned, she felt uncomfortably dizzy still and Eloise wasn't wasting time waiting for her. She had to run to catch up. All around her Londoners mulled around her trying to get home in time for supper. She felt conscious again she was still barefooted, but now it seemed the least of her problems.

"It's called apparition." Eloise said over her shoulder, than suddenly she stopped. She waited for a large group of men to pass, several of them casting hopeful glances at her for Eloise really was pretty. When she was satisfied she'd not be over heard, she added, "might I ask- for… your own safety, you call me aunty when we get to the ministry?"

"Aunty?" Hermione frowned. "Am I in trouble?"

"You might be- not like you'll expect see…"

"Stop," Hermione interrupted, already she knew she was in over her head. Nothing was right and yet- this impatient woman seemed to radiate confidence. If anyone could help her she felt this women was her best bet. "I'll call you aunty if it's really what's best- but what have I done wrong? How did I get here… where did my parents go?"

"Your parents haven't gone anyplace- it's you whose left." Eloise answered carefully.

"But… I was only just sleeping- I was asleep in my bed- then I just woke up in that field."

"And tell me- are the people here like they are at home? Do they speak the same? Dress the same?"

"No," she frowned, but how could this woman know that? Did she read minds too? "The people are different… they act like we've gone back to older times… like in the books my mum reads or the plays I've seen at the theater." Hermione said watching her reactions for indications of what was to come but Eloise was well guarded as a fortress.

"Yes. Well. I'm not sure how much to tell you, how much you might understand but… I think you might not just be lost from home, but in time."

"Time?" Hermione filtered though a complication of emotions. "I don't understand."

"I suspect from seeing you reading you might be able to write your full name and birthday for me?"

"Certainly."

"And the year? She pressed. "That bit on the end."

"I know what a year is," she clipped.

"Good, whens your birthday with the year?"

"September 19, 1979."

Eloises's brows shot straight up to her hairline. "1979- you're sure of that?"

"Yes," Hermione said confidently, though the squirming in her belly made her nervous. "Miss… how exactly does one get lost in time?"

"That's a very good question," Eloise said thoughtfully. "Listen here and repeat after me. Your name is Millie Wilkins- you were born September 19, 1893."

"1893." Hermione said in disbelief. She felt suddenly flustered and looked her age for the first time.

"Millie," Eloise said pointedly. "Even in the magical community it's an uncommon gift to jump in time like you have."

"But I haven't done it on purpose! I only want to go home."

"And I want to help you, of course… but there are many who will fear you."

"Fear me?"

"My job has to do with time Millie, you'll need to trust me hear?" Hermione nodded looking worried. "Now, repeat after me. You are Millie Wilkins, born on September 19, 1893."

"I'm Millie Wilkins- I'm to call you aunty and my birthday is September 19, 1893."

Eloise visibly calmed. "Good. Now, stay at my side and act as though everything you see is something you've seen before. I'm not sure how you ended up raised by Muggles, magic like yours can't originate from non-magic lines… so you'll need to play along. Feign disinterest if you must, do you know what that means?" Hermione nodded and took Eloise's offered hand then followed along prepared for the worst.

 **AN:** **I'd love to hear your feedback! I've been interested in Eloise over the years and of course Harry's family. I've done a lot of research to try and make this as compatible with the books as possible. Tell me what you think** **!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

 **AN: Thanks so much to everyone who has read my story! I was worried my use of obscure characters might turn people off but I've been pleasantly surprised to find that people are still sticking with me! Thanks; Arnold DeVillena, Harmonic Wisp & LiveLikeMe for reviewing!**

 **I do have a question for anyone who has posted a story at some point… how do you go about having one of your characters added to the drop list on the filter? I am thinking of Saul Croaker specifically. He's in the Harry Potter fandom dictionary app and is an official book character. Throwing it out there in case anyone happens to know…**

 **Also, if anyone noticed… I made a big mistake! My story takes place in 1899, but I typed in 1889 in several chapter time stamps. I've gone through and edited my previous chapters but just in case I confused anyone… I'm sorry!**

 **Chapter 4 in Hermione's POV will follow VERY shortly. I meant to have chapter 3 and 4 as one but it just got too long! Look for it before the end of the week. Trying to stick to a chapter per week or average out to it at least!**

 **Enjoy!**

 **July 13** **th** **, 1899 – 9:15 P.M. - Outskirts of Godric's Hollow- Saul Croaker**

Millicent Oliver had been remarkably easy to Obliviate. Her husband Martin had been another story. Saul had worked on him for over an hour before he'd gotten satisfactory results. The stubborn ones were always difficult! Of course Obliviation wasn't his specialty either- but… when the situation arose… he did an all right job of it! They'd probably forget to eat supper and go to bed hungry but that was the worst of it. In the morning it would be as though the day had never happened, start to finish.

Perhaps overly wary of being seen, he hastily straightened his robes and brushed his hair back into place. Then he slowly turned his head to the side until it cracked, closed his eyes and let go of a deep exhale. This was his personal calming tactic- a manual reset button when he needed it. And boy did he need it now!

To say that Saul was irritated was a massive understatement! He was _seething_ but he couldn't do anything about it. Having first spent the entire day dealing with an explosion in his department, the aftermath, Hershel's near death experience and the staff at St Mungo's, Eloise had somehow convinced him into turning back time to face the same stretch of hours on foot in pursuit of what had turned out to be a curious young witch. As it were, _technically_ he was still at St Mungo's finishing his checkup. Procedure dictated it after such an eruption and frankly he was lucky he hadn't ended up like poor Hershel! However now he was _also_ in Godric's Hollow… cleaning up for Eloise, as per usual.

Saul stepped out onto the front porch, leaving the Oliver's to their long evening of befuddlement. The temperature had finally cooled to a tolerable level and he silently thanked the heavens for small favors. The old wood porch creaked under foot but the sound was almost entirely lost to the frenzied and deafening choir of crickets. There must have been millions in the open fields that surround the country village! He stopped awestruck and utterly fascinated. Having grown up in Downtown London he'd never experienced such a phenomenon!

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, something caught his attention at the far end of the deck. He backtracked a few steps to reach the rocker closest to him. On it's seat laid the girls discarded book. The cover of which shimmered and glowed brightly under the light of the moon. Strange, he thought as he picked it up to examine it more closely. The girl had been reading it hours ago but still her strange magic clung to it. Her little fingerprints were cast as though painted and dusted with glitter everywhere she'd touched it! He felt a rush of warmth radiate from his fingers up his arms to his chest then a blissfully happy feeling washed over him. Without his usually guilt in doing such things he slipped the book into his pocket for later perusal.

Surveying his surroundings once more he strode purposefully for the street. When traveling in time being discrete was essential. Barging around Godric's Hollows questioning people had hardly been a wise decision given their current situation and Eloise had done it conspicuously as possible in flaming red! Saul groaned inwardly. The explosion and Hershel's condition would most likely make the papers that day if not tomorrow and from what he understood the entire Ministry of Magic had been evacuated before the situation was resolved. Anyone who'd spoken to them today would be able to question how they'd managed to be two places at once. He thought desperately of conducting more damage control but in the end decided against it. Obliviating Muggles was excusable, obliviating the magical population on the other hand was grounds for Azkaban. He would just need to lay low and hope no one made the connection!

When it came to Eloise, Saul was often torn between admiration and loathing. She'd been his mentor when he'd become an Unspeakable 5 years earlier and he'd been smitten by her, after all it was easy to fall for someone like Eloise. Outside of being beautiful she knew exactly what she wanted and how it. Her no regrets or apologies lifestyle raised her into a position of power naturally. Often it was at a cost of others, but _she_ never saw it that way!

Leading and shelling out orders came easy as breathing to Eloise. Endlessly impressed by her seductive and dominating presence he'd fallen into line behind her like fresh born fawn follows its mother, until he 'd gotten to know her! This morning for instance he'd been reminded once more of how entirely selfish she was! He highly doubted she'd spared Hershel a thought since they'd left St Mungo's… well then again she probably had privately enjoyed the fact that in his absence she was now standing in as Department Head.

Saul was the exact opposite, he was selfless to a fault and to his own detriment, lacked an ability to say no. While being seen with her raised him in the eyes of most men, he saw through her glamour and thought she was too cunning for her own good. Left to her own devices she was a danger to her own integrity! Without him, he was certain she would defect in little to no time! Or maybe he just told himself that…

That being said, being paired with the overly ambitious Eloise kept him mighty busy and left him feeling massively drained. She was consistently delegating to him, throwing him the ropes without explaining what needed to be done with them or how she'd come to hold them in the first place. Fairly, being an unspeakable _did_ rob you of a social life already, so he supposed whether or not he was always working at the whims of his partner a moot point. As it stood his free hours couldn't provide the time needed to care for a cactus, let alone a wife! Though Eloise kept him busy as such!

Tired and irate as he was at this point, he was willing to do _almost anything_ to settle this situation to a stopping point for the day. A few hours of sleep would be his sole reward and he was certain he would sleep like the dead tonight! Of course, he had yet to figure out how a mere child had created such a magical disturbance but simply providing her a safe home for the time being would suffice until he did. With his bed in mind he rallied and lengthened his strides to quicken his pace until he'd reached the address Henry Potter had provided.

The Potters lived a short jaunt up the road in a house that looked like all of the others in town, a handsome stone tutor with extension charms that doubled the interior. Their door however was painted deep burgundy and bore a brass lion knocker with a brass nameplate just beneath that read 'Potter'. Rapping on the door three times Saul stepped back and removed his hat. Henry Potter answered with his wife not a few steps back. She looked worn out as he felt but was a more then a gracious host offering him something to drink as soon as he'd entered.

"I'd usually offer juice or water first, but I'm in need of something stronger tonight… care to partake in some Whiskey or Meade?" Mrs. Potter surprised him.

"Please," he said honestly. A drink would surely calm him before having to confront Eloise again and though he'd never say it out loud, truthfully he feared for the child's wellbeing if he dallied any longer.

Mrs. Potter poured him a larger then average ration then scraped it along the table towards him effectively pulling him back from his thoughts. He was tired and distracted at present and he flushed at the way he must come off to them just then, walking in and dropping into his seat without asking. Of course he'd never been much of a socialite and his job had only exasperated the reclusive quality. He opened his mouth to apologize then shut it when he noted the pungent smell in the air.

Merciful heavens, it was truly foul! Horrified that he'd stepped in something at the farm and tracked it through their home he casually sniffed the air again and then very carefully looked down at his boots. They were clean of droppings and for having walked in the all the places he had that day they looked clean enough.

"You see that?" Mrs. Potter said sharply. Gesturing at him all the while shooting a look at her husband who had clearly noticed his behavior as well. "It's going to stink for weeks… mark my words!"

"It smells fine," he lied.

"Is that why you're blushing like a school girl?" Mrs. Potter laughed.

"It's all my fault…" Henry confessed with a guilty smile. "Bit of a failure in the lab earlier."

"A bit?" his wife said vexed.

Henry smiled again. "I'm a lucky man to have such a tolerant and agreeable wife! You won't ever hear a complaint from me in her regards," he said trying to soften her. Saul privately thought the whiskey would have a faster effect at placating his wife then his tongue. They were all silent for a stitch while husband and wife had a private argument with their eyes.

"Persephone has agreed to housing the girl for however long is needed." Henry finally said, eyeballing his wife warily as she tilted back her head finished her entire cup.

"Wonderful," Saul said smiling inwardly at her actions. Mirroring her actions he threw back his drink as well. "I better get back to it I'm afraid… Do you still want to come? I could bring her back myself if you need more time to prepare?"

"I daresay the girl wouldn't mind having a familiar face close by," Henry said looking a little eager to provide his wife with a little more space. "Let me get my wand."

"Of course." Saul agreed then watched him exit the parlor. Persephone on the other hand set the bottle before him and met his gaze in such a fashion that he felt suddenly rooted to the spot.

"Tell me dear, what is it your fretting over?" Her voice was like honey.

Saul laughed uneasily. "It's nothing."

"You're lying." She practically sung. "I'll have you know I'm great at keeping things to myself… daresay the wife of a Potioneer rarely has a moment to gossip anyways… the girl…?"

"I've only met her briefly." He felt clammy.

"But you were looking for her longer… why?" Her voice was like net, closing about him. He had to answer her… he wanted to answer her…he squirmed under her knowing gaze.

"She's… well… nothings been confirmed!" His voice cracked like a boy in puberty.

"Of course… but all the same…" she poured him another measure and snapped at him to drink it. He did. "But all the same you are looking for her because?"

"There was an explosion, a room in our department… it's," he quivered, the prospect of telling her too much seeming inescapable. It was as though she was willing it from him! "It's the love room… nearly killed our department head… too much love… it's just as bad as not enough."

"Much agreed. And… she's to do with the explosion?"

"Possibly, but maybe it's…"

"Go on." She said pouring him another, her eyes were hypnotic.

"Peri," Henry said sharply from the threshold. He crossed the room to his side and took the drink from his hand, then set it out of reach. 'Peri' gave him doe eyed look of innocence and straightened up at once. Then she brushed off her dress needlessly and offered them both a smile that dared them to question what had just happened. Saul's mouth felt dry and he felt entirely discombobulated.

"Ready to go then? Maybe I'll lead the apparition?" Henry had him by the elbow and out the front door in the matter of a minute. He guided him down across the road and into the shadow of a tree before he apparated them both to an alley near the main entrance of the ministry.

Saul felt the effects of drinking a lot very quickly all at once and Henry held him upright while he regained his composure. "You'll need to pardon my wife… she means well."

"It's alright." Saul said though he felt slightly ambushed. How did he end up around such women? He wasn't sure what had just happened to be honest, but at least she'd been nice enough to get him drunk before demanding things from him. That was more then Eloise ever did! The unlikely pair took off walking and once he'd begun moving again he felt a little more stable on his feet.

Saul cringed inwardly at the way the day had gone. Nearly revealing top-secret information to Mrs. Potter and then letting Eloise talk him into staying behind while she disappeared with the child alone. He cracked his neck as they walked thoughts returning to his partner.

Sighing heavily they entered the ministry at last. It was quite some time after hours and it was all but deserted. There was a pair of security guards near the fireplaces, and lone greeter witch at the counter who nodded at them both informally.

"Keeping odd hours tonight." She said in lieu of a greeting. Saul was terrible with names even when his head wasn't recovering from being addled with.

"Odd times for unspeakable things." He said mysteriously.

"Eloise has reopened the department…" She was visibly weary. "She had her niece with her too… I daresay it's a bit risky having a child in there after the explosion but I suppose what do I know? I'm just a _simple_ secretary."

Saul gave an uneasy laugh. "Yes well, she is the Department Head with Hershel out, I imagine she's given safety and protocol her utmost attention." The eldery witch raised a brow in argument but said nothing to argue in front of Henry.

As the lifts rattled into action Saul's stomach gave an anxious little flip. In his line of work, he'd grown accustomed to the unanticipated. He was fast on his feet, and quickly dealt with the outcomes good or bad, though he never much liked dragging others into it. Currently he was responsible for a child and a well-known Pureblood. Too many witnesses to contain easily… it'd be a workload to content with if things went amiss…

"Level 9, Department of Mysteries." A voice announced and the lift doors sprung open.

"Here we are," Saul said brightly leading the way. He smiled dismissively at the makeshift barrier that marked the department closed and highly dangerous and gestured for Henry to follow without the faintest note of worry in his voice or body language.

The department at large was still in shambles and as he made for their shared office he noted places on the floor where Hershel's blood had dried up but still remained. There was also the strange humming in the air… and an odd hollowed energy that made him feel as though he was recovering from a massive heartbreak.

"Must have been quite the explosion," Henry said looking equally affected. "Though being fair, I made one of my own earlier that smelled quite a bit worst!" The ever present grin on his face now looked stretched and worn down.

"Smells are rarely an issue in our department," Saul informed as they reached his shared office, "lingering foot-trails of corrupt forms of magic on the other hand…" He trailed off without going into details for there was no trace of Eloise or Hermione and now he was deciding his next course of action. "You could wait here if you like." He gestured to an overturned seat politely.

"I think I'd prefer to come along if that's not an issue." Henry said looking quite curious. It wasn't often you got a personal invitation into their department.

"Yes… of course," Saul hesitated then led on. If she wasn't in their office he could expect to find them in one of two places; by the door he'd sealed personally (earlier that very day), or the Hall of Prophecy… he wasn't sure which was worst.

Though remaining outwardly calm for the sake of his companion, inwardly his heart rate picked up a notch as they passed room #9. The door itself was shaking as if it was holding back a raging Manticore and several small cracks had formed in the wood. From the small cracks wisps and tendrils of golden dust escaped on the breaths of whatever lay beyond it. He gave a nervous chuckle as he looked at it but said absolutely nothing in its regards to the man trailing after him.

When they'd reached the Hall of Prophecy Henry stopped and stood back to stare in wonder. It was rather extraordinary, ceilings high as a church and shelves that reached near as high. All of them stacked with mysterious orbs that caged dancing blue fire, some of which glowed brightly and others that whispered out to you like a lover. He could certainly see the appeal of this particular room to anyone who didn't work in their department. Like all things truly dangerous they all but begged you to take hold of them.

Doubling back at the thought, Saul turned around just in time to swat Henrys hand back from danger. Henry's eyes had grown wide and sweat beaded over the bridge of his nose. His arm twitched at his side and Saul physically placed himself between Henry and the shelf until he regained his composure.

"Dire consequences come to those who try and hold them when they have no stake in them." Saul warned.

"Stake in them?" Saul pointed at the base of the orb he'd just tried to grab. It bore three names.

Henry's mouth opened as he connected the dots. "But…how many are there? Do you contact all of these people? What do you do with them?" Henry was a mess of questions suddenly and Saul was posing his answers when they heard her voice echoing down the empty hall.

"Just take in in your hands!" Eloise snapped clear as day. She must have heard them enter the hall and was likely impatient for her ward to act. Without another glance at Henry, Saul took off running. He knew exactly where they'd be, Aisle 1, Shelf 7, Marker 27. It was the orb that he'd told her about at St Mungo's.

Hermione was wide eyed and shaking when he found her, hands outstretched to take hold of the Prophecy he'd mentioned to Eloise earlier that day. For a moment he put aside the danger in her actions for the orb reacted to the young girls presence in a way he'd never witnessed! Typically the orbs remained blue even after broken, but this one was glowing bright gold like a miniature sun! Furthermore little tendrils of swirling gold dust lifted from it and a ghostly voice tickled at his subconscious delightfully. He felt mesmerized, stunned even. He watched Hermione's hands move as though magnetized, closing the gap slow but steady. It was happening in slow motion, and she was maybe a hair from contact when a shout broke their shared trance.

"Stop!" Henry bellowed catching up just in time. Hermione jumped back as though she'd been burned. She gasped and immediately broke into a shivering cold sweat. Eloise looked murderous, she glared at Henry as though he'd turned into a Troll. It was impressive that she looked so beautiful even angry.

"Henry," Saul said in a quivering tone. "Take the girl…"

"Millie Wilkins," Hermione said as though reciting a manual. "September 19, 1893."

Both men looked at Eloise who rolled her eyes. "Well go on then… I'm sure we'll get to the bottom of this _eventually_."

Hermione shook her head as if clearing it then visibly distraught she looked between the three of them and her lower lip began to quiver. "But you… you said if I took hold of it, I'd get to see my parents." The brave young girl seemed to have at last reached her limits tears were spilling down her cheeks, "I want to go home… you said, you…"

"I can't imagine how you must be feeling right now," Henry said gently. He sunk to his knees before her and reached out instinctually to hold both of her hands in his. Despite this horrendous situation having a witness, Saul was grateful there was at least one parent present because he didn't know the first thing about children and apparently Eloise was in the same boat. Hermione's strong exterior crumpled and gave way and Henry reacted like clockwork pulling her into a fatherly hug.

"Don't give up yet, we'll find you a way home little one, just be patient." He picked her up in his arms like a toddler and Saul was mildly surprised that his action was met no resistance what-so-ever. Henry's face hardened up once he had the girls back to them. "That will be enough for today, I'll take it from here." He said coolly. Saul noted while they'd both been included in the stern look his words were directed for the most part at Eloise.

"But I want to go home." the girls cry echoed down the aisle as Henry exited the room leaving the pair of unspeakables together.

"What the hell do you think you were doing?" Saul snapped soon as they'd gotten out of earshot.

"How dare you speak to me in such a tone!" she rounded, "I'm your superior."

"And as such I'd expect you to know what happens to people who meddle with things they shouldn't! She's just a child Eliie! She could have been seriously injured! Hell she could have been killed!"

To his consternation Eloise began to laugh. "Killed? You saw what happened! You saw it the same thing as me! It called to her! The Bloody Founders Prophecy! Don't you see the possibilities?"

"The Founders Prophecy," Saul choked out. "It's just a myth." But even as he said it he was reading the label beneath the orb. "Founders Prophecy 992 A.D."

"A myth with a ball attached!" Eloise thundered. She drew her wand and pointed it at him menacingly positively shivering with anger, then as though getting a grip once more stuffed it back into her pocket. Snarling, she started pacing around heavily like an angry bull, her tiny fists opening and closing in angst. Privately Saul thought she looked almost… feral, like she literally wanted to tear him into shreds. It'd have been more impressive if he'd not seen her react this way at least a dozen times before.

"The girl is almost a century from the future!" She spat out after a stretch. Saul had been waiting… this was her process. "How is this possible? How was such luck wasted on a child? Raised by Muggles…it's preposterous!" She rounded at him poking him in the chest, "Opportunities like this don't present themselves for no reason! …No!"

"Ellie, it's been a long day."

"I'll tell you when the day is over!" She cut him off."

"All I'm saying is let's sleep on this, touch base in the morning once we've looked in on Hershel, then lets work on getting this child figured out. She's going to a safe place- where we'll have access to her when we need it…"

"Get- Out-of –my- sight!" She yelled barely holding it together. Though she'd already begun stalking away. "9 am St Mungo's," she added as though it had been her idea.

Croaker felt his jaw tighten but he stood his ground, letting her have her dignified exit. The girl was safe at least and he'd be able to consult Hershel in the morning… if he came around… Ellie's anger would likely taper off by morning…possibly.

 **AN: Hopefully you liked it! What did you think of entire chapters in one perspective vs. multiple perspectives per chapter?**

 **PS. Reviews help motivate me!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Tempus Fugit**

 **Chapter 4**

 **AN: I meant to post this last Friday but I'm glad I waited. All of the extra edit time helped me to add details that I think are vital to setting up the foundation of this story. This is officially the last chapter comprising my introduction, so I'm excited to get to the meat now that I've introduced everyone and set the scene.**

 **I am aiming for 4,200- 6,000 words per/chapter, and also trying to work at being efficient enough to write, edit and post in a weekly/biweekly timeline. I think the biggest challenge with this piece is making sure to reference and re-reference all the known character dates from the actual book series (births, deaths, genealogy) and make them work in this story. Also, the** _ **time**_ **variable is crazy when you think about how much had changed in this last century alone! To come from Muggle Dentistry (a pretty technical lifestyle for a Muggle) and living in the 80's to then shift to 1899? Hermione has got to feel like she's been plunged into the middle ages! Poor thing thinks 1899 is bad… hint hint.** **!**

 **Thanks, Stormshifter, Arnold DeVillena, Jlove34 & Firesong23 for reviewing!**

 **As always - please enjoy! And I own nothing. JK Rowling is a goddess**

 **July 17** **th** **, 1899 - Millicent Olivia Wilkins (aka. Hermione Jean Granger) - Potter Residence- Godric's Hollow.**

Hermione spent a fair amount of time wishing for home in the days that followed her abrupt arrival. Each morning like a daily ritual she'd lay in bed with her eyes closed trying to physically will herself back into her own time again. Consequently she had also spent a lot of time staring forlornly around her room afterwards.

After being in the Department of Mysteries Hermione was sure she'd never feel surprised again. She was wrong. Engulfed suddenly in a magical world she was in an endless state of wonder. Living with the Potters she quickly came to understand the differences between magical and non-magical households. If she'd had her old faithful pen and notepad combo she might have catalogued said differences as she noted them. For instance, wizards and witches summoned everything so there was never a worry of misplacing your keys. Also with spell work there was never a need to manually wash dishes, or take out the trash. To her bafflement the letter boxes in Godric's Hollow proved to be no more then decoys for the benefit of Muggles residents because the post was actually delivered by owls! In broad daylight!

Surprisingly it wasn't the magic she had the hardest time adjusting to, it was time itself. Being six she'd never contemplated the changes that had occurred in the span of a century! All of the technologies she'd come to take for granted, never thinking they could be gone in the blink of an eye! Ballpoint pens, Velcro, fans, ice, electricity and indoor plumbing… to name a few! Also there was the fact that in 1980 girls were allowed to wear pants. In 1899 women wore dresses no exceptions.

Missing her parents and modern technologies her days had become consumed with comparisons between her old and new lives. Making comparisons helped her to get a grip on reality so she didn't feel so off foot. Without so much as a picture for proof, comparisons were all she really had left of her past so in her mind they proved that somewhere out there her parents still existed and that they were waiting for her to come back with the same degree longing she was feeling to return to them.

When she'd confided this all to Eloise the witch had told her they were pointless thoughts. "They don't even exist yet, so how could they miss you? Focus in the present otherwise you'll just be wasting time. And- above all be grateful for the Potters taking you in!" Hermione didn't mean to come off ungrateful as Eloise had put it but no matter how accommodating the Potters were it didn't make the sting of loosing her parents any less devastating!

The Potters as it were had done everything to welcome her into their life. Never once had she been made to feel like a burden. On the contrary, she'd been given a room of her own the very same evening she'd arrived and a full wardrobe! They had also been attentive and doting and they'd given her space when she needed it too.

Regardless of how wonderful the Potters had been, up until a few days ago her parents were virtually the only people she'd had in her life and suddenly they were gone! In effect it was like some large piece of her was missing. One that couldn't be filled by people she'd only just met… not at this point anyways. Furthermore, with strangers there was no security. Even if the Potters had been kind hearted enough to take her in for the time being, what happened if they decided at some point they didn't want to keep her? It wasn't like your own parents who'd keep you even if you made them angry.

Hermione let out the breath she was holding. All in all it was hard to feel sorry for your self with such extravagances to distract you. The canopy above her bed was a masterpiece in lilac silk, embroidered with enchanted little birds that preened themselves and flapped their wings. Magically they'd rise with the sun, chirping and singing out like a natural alarm clock.

The walls in her room were of a similar in design. From floor to ceiling a mural encompassed all four walls with a summertime setting that mirrored the fields outside of the village. Knee high grass blew in a non-existent wind and little butterflies fluttered around the room realistically. Every hour or so a little fox or a bunny would dart from the grass and then disappear again once it'd stretched leisurely before your eyes. The paint too, would reflect the time of day, getting darker in the evening. Mrs. Potter further explained that the mural changed to reflect the seasons as well.

Resigned to being on the precipice of modern day plumbing she threw back the duvet and climbed from the bed for the sake of her bursting bladder. Toilets as it turned out where a modern convenience and pull to flush toilets were still only offered to the most wealthy and modern Muggles. If she ever _did_ get home first thing she'd do is kiss their dusty old toilet!

Padding across her room, she slipped behind the dressing screen set up in the corner. Behind it sat a simple but sturdy wooden chair, it featured a hook off the front which was equipped a wool cloth and a seat that opened to reveal a pewter cauldron. The act of emptying into a normal looking chair in the back corner of her bedroom was hardly something she would get used to anytime soon but it was leagues better then the situation had been at the Oliver's!

She wrinkled her nose as she thought of her introduction to the chamber pot! Said 'device' involved squatting in far too many clothes, manually carrying and dumping the contents in a designated area then rinsing it yourself without the use of modern day plumbing. It almost made her want to stop eating all together! The wizards on the other hand employed something called a "vanishing charm." Once you closed the magical seat lid the contents of the pot simply vanished. While a much better option then the Chamber Pot she had to admit she had expected more out of the magical population!

Her wardrobe was composed of Persephone's old dresses. 'Peri' was an organized hoarder. She had collections of everything, from teacups to ornamental hairpieces. It seemed to have been a life long trait for she had saved a good deal of her clothes from growing up. Needless to say Hermione quickly found herself the recipient of more dresses than she could have ever thought necessary! Day and night dresses. Special occasion and sleep dresses. Bountiful bloomers she was to wear beneath the dresses and a collection of god-awful bows to match each one.

After four days of being schooled in the proper ways of robing ones self, Hermione had become efficient in passing for a witch from 1899. Persephone made it effortless, laying each dress and it's accessories out the night before so there could be no confusion. If she wasn't dressed by the time Peri came to call, she assisted in the process herself. Hoping to appease her hosts Hermione put her self together quickly in a dress so exorbitant that she felt like a china doll. Then dejectedly she tucked herself into the window seat and bit back a sob. Chin settled into the lacy knees of her ungodly long bloomers she pouted in the direction of a bird settled into a branch on the tree outside her window. For having been so independent she felt so utterly dependent and helpless all the sudden!

She wondered what her parents were doing now. What they must think. Did they think she'd run away? Been abducted? Or maybe they thought that she was dead? Would they give up on her? She wondered what they'd do if they knew where she really was. Or if they could they see her in this silly frock or worst the bow that accompanied it! The bow was roughly size of her head and for once she was pleased as pie about the size of her hair because even when wearing it she could hardly see it from the front. They'd laugh- she was sure… and maybe she would too had they been there with her to enjoy the irony of it.

She pulled restlessly at the lace fabric that was buttoned over her leather boots and thought back to the dusty old flat and the murder stains on the floor. It had all seemed so bleak then, now she'd take bleak and ignorant without a second thought! Remembering the strange shimmering light that she'd seen by her closet she wondered if she should she have reacted to it. She'd assumed then she had only been imagining it out of sheer exhaust or dust inhalation. Could the light have been a warning? Could she have avoided this fate? Maybe, if she returned to the field… to the exact spot she'd appeared in, she could shift back simply as she'd shifted here? Maybe it was that _place_ that was magical and not her.

A knock on her door put her plotting to rest and she sprung from her perch in the window frame to acknowledge Persephone. Mrs. Potter grinned largely at the sight of her then crossed the room staring fondly at the dress she wore. "That was one of my favorites growing up, I wore it to an open market in France when I was a girl. My sister had one identical to it." Hermione felt like a frog was lodged in her throat and nodded.

Peri touched the lacy frills on her elbow length sleeves and smoothed out the silken buttercup yellow material needlessly. Somewhat compulsively, Mrs Potter was always ordering things even if they were perfect to start with. Hermione was for the most part very neat and organized so it didn't exactly bother her but she mentally noted that it wasn't like her own mother.

"I am thinking of owling my tailor. It's late notice, so we can't expect her to come out today but I daresay my old dresses are outdated even to someone who doesn't come from _the future_." Persephone said. (The moderated truth of her situation had been bestowed on the Potters the morning following her arrival.) According to the unspeakable duo, there was no way around sharing some truths because as she understood it her lack of magical upbringing showed through like a flower blooming in the dead of winter. The Potters had thus been informed that she'd been raised as a Muggle and that she'd shifted from roughly a century in the future. (She'd been banned on giving specifics to anyone save themselves.)

Hermione didn't know how to feel about being fit for clothes. Borrowing clothes was one thing, it implied her stay at an end but having clothes made just for her felt more permanent, as though they expected her to stay with them a long while.

Persephone who was waiting for her reply offered her a small smile of understanding. "No one expects you to accept this situation with a grain of salt. If you need to talk about it, I'm here… even if you just want me to sit quietly and listen."

"Thanks Mrs. Potter."

"Persephone or Peri will do just fine young lady and while we are on the topic of names, I can't imagine you much like having a new one suddenly?"

"No," she admitted sheepishly.

"Well we could call you Hermione when no one else is around if you like? Or perhaps we could use a nickname? What did… _do_ your parents call you?"

"Dad calls me pumpkin." She replied not missing Peri's slip into the past tense.

"And your mum?"

"It's always been Hermione to her. I'm named for a character in a play she's fond of. She said she fell in love with my name the first time she heard it and that same night she met my dad at the theater during an intermission."

"Is that right? Which play? Is it around in _this_ time yet?"

Hermione smiled grandly upon the realization that it did. "Yes! Actually… Shakespeare's ancient! Sorry… I didn't mean to imply you are ancient- oh bother- I've gone and stuck my foot in my mouth haven't I?"

Peri laughed her off. "That's quite alright, I can't imagine this is easy for you to grasp traveling backwards like you have… after all it's not as though you've gone back a short distance! What's the name of the play? Perhaps I could put _old_ Henry to task in retrieving a copy today?"

Hermione grinned at the quip. "It's called A Winters Tale, by William Shakespeare. Hermione's the Queen in it."

"How delightful." Persephone said looking like she meant it. Then she moved topics. "Fleamont's having kittens downstairs waiting for you, hungry for breakfast yet?"

Hermione smiled at the thought of the toddler. She would have never imagined she'd enjoy a babies company so much but with Flea she was the sun and stars to someone again. His endless stream of smiles and energy was contagious and that he squealed and squawked at the mere sight of her made her feel happy inside and out. He'd dragged her around to play with him since her arrival and she reveled in the distraction. Best of all, he couldn't tell she'd been raised by Muggles from the future nor did he care!

Fleamont was dripping in his porridge when they came into the kitchen and Hermione couldn't hold back a laugh. Harry smiled good-naturedly but looked entirely relieved at the sight of his wife. "I don't know how you do it honey." He said kissing her cheek. "And how did you sleep little one?" He added to Hermione.

"Well as can be expected." She responded kissing Fleas offered hand despite how sticky it was. Flea cooed merrily at her and she grinned at him as she worked to wedge herself into her seat in a way that comfortably accepted the girth of her skirt.

Hermione had learned that Henry (called Harry by his wife) was a Potioneer over breakfast her first morning. Harry had followed up his explanation of the family trade with a quick tour of his lab. It was enormous! The stone walled basement was lit exclusively by oil lamps so it was quite dark compared to rooms of her own time which were lit with electricity. Dark and quite cold until brewing commenced it featured an entire wall of fireplaces with massive cauldrons sat in them for to brewing large quantities. The wall opposite was devoted to potions ingredients from the floor to the ceiling and she'd regarded them with a mixture of disgust and avid interest. In between the two walls several long tables, clean as a whistle, with instruments to aid in preparing the ingredients.

"Harry, remember you promised me a favor in exchange for cleaning up after your potion explosion?"

"How could I forget with the lingering aroma?"

Persephone smiled at him. "I'm banking in on my favor today, Miss Hermione's told me about a play she's fond of and it exists here in our time. It's Muggle play of course but perhaps you could go on an adventure to retrieve it today?"

"Trying to get rid of me wife?"

"Always," she teased.

He kissed her swiftly and stole a strip of bacon from the tray she had just summoned. "Anything you ask and more, will that be all?"

The married couple leaned in as if drawn by magnets for a follow up kiss and their son put an end to the mushy business with a well-aimed wad of porridge flung from his spoon. It hit his father right in his ear and he yelped like a dog in surprise. Hermione snorted while drinking her juice and a bit of it went up her nose.

 **-oOo-**

Lacking modern day luxuries like air conditioning and ice made escaping the July heat difficult. Dressed in more layers then she'd ever worn in her life Hermione settled for curling up between the exposed roots of the tree out back. Being in it's shade and pressed into the cold earth beneath was about as close as she'd get to relief save streaking or throwing herself bodily into a river!

Satiated by the thought that sooner then later she'd have familiar piece of reading material in her grasp she stared up at the massive limbs dreamily. Harry had told her all about the tree with pride just the day before, it was much larger then typical because of a potion he'd nurtured it with. (One of his own making.) The variety of Black Poplar didn't typically grow so tall or wide, but this one was nearing 50 feet and had a plethora of strong thick limbs. Had she been like any normal child she might have wanted to climb it! Had she been daring she might have tried to slip up the twisted branches to her makeshift bedroom for they slithered up to it like a snake and one long sturdy branch went nearly to the window itself.

She mulled over the choice she'd been given earlier by Peri. Whether or not she liked the name Millicent Olivia Wilkins at all. Millicent Olivia was of course taken from the Muggles who had taken her in. Wilkins as it turned out wasn't simply fast thinking on Eloise's part but Persephone's maiden name. (Eloise was well versed in family trees of purebloods, being one herself.) Furthermore, Persephone had a sister who was single and between them Eloise had figured one of them could claim her if the need ever arose. Wilkins wasn't a bad name she mused and her high opinion of only boosted her affinity for it. Millicent on the other hand was outdated, but Millie wasn't terrible and if she really did have to say goodbye to her home at some point it did seem suiting to also lay to rest her name as a point of respect as well.

"Millie Wilkins," she said softly to herself.

Between daily visits from Saul and Eloise Hermione had been dealt more then a few blows and much had been revealed to her in regards to the mysteries of time travel. Saul as it were was a gentle soul, very careful with his words and delivery. Eloise on the other hand was far too blunt to be considered kind- though given the choice Hermione almost thought she preferred the hardness of Eloise to the softness of Saul. For instance, how could one deliver the fact that she might never see her parents again, or be able return to her own timeline in a way that made it any less horrible? For hard truths like those, she preferred the Eloise method… fact itself delivered with absolutely no emotion attached in the blunt fashion that embodied Eloise. Conversely there were times she preferred the Saul method better. For example when Eloise had given her the new name to go by (for her own safety) she'd delivered it as an order. Saul on the other hand had offered it.

"Millie," Eloise sang out. Speak of the devil, Hermione thought inwardly as she took the witch in. She was standing in the neighbors yard just on the other side of the fence, a fact at which she wondered at but said nothing. Eloise always looked as though she owned everything she touched so somehow it seemed normal though she was sure the neighbors had no idea she was there at present. She noted also that the witch had managed to look fashionable and well put together despite the heat.

"Hello Eloise," Hermione said sitting up a little warily. The Potters had for the most part had been there for the Unspeakables visits but now… Eloise came alone.

Hermione remembered her first night alone with her in detail and was a little cautious at being without a chaperone. "Where's Saul?"

"Oh- he'll be along." Eloise dismissed climbing over the short gate regally. She shook out her long glistening hair over one shoulder and smirked down at her like she'd won a prize. "Where are the Potters? There was no answer at the door."

"Harry's out and Persephone is putting Fleamont down for a nap."

"Is that right?" Eloise visibly relaxed then conjured a chair out of thin air. "I was hoping to have a private chat with you… girl to girl." As she said it she withdrew a candy bar from her pocket and tossed it at her.

Never athletic the candy hit her in the chest before she could even think to catch it. It was wrapped in flashing pink paper so it clearly wasn't Muggle made. She picked it up with raised brows and flipped it over to read the package. "Will this make me fly or something?"

Eloise laughed. "It's just chocolate. Well… who am I kidding it's not 'just' anything when it's chocolate we are talking about!" Hermione shrugged and made to set it aside. "Child! It's candy! Eat it!"

"My parents never give me candy."

"What your parent's don't know won't kill them! Come on live a little."

Hermione thought the phrase was rather poorly timed given the state of things.

"Would you like a bite?" She offered the bar back to the witch for clearly she enjoyed chocolate.

"I wish." She said patting her middle. "Corsets come off at some point after all." She grinned as if carried away in thought and Hermione was able to admire every one of her perfectly straight white teeth. "I'll just need to live vicariously through you I'm afraid. Trust me, enjoy being young."

Hermione unwrapped the top and sniffed it. Was she crazy for not wanting to take a bite? She raised it to her lips and took a very tiny nibble. Her parents had made monsters out of sugar and while she did get the occasional sugar free treat she could almost hear them reprimanding her as she chewed it

"Wow." She said at last, stunned. It was good! She took a larger nibble.

"About time you said something childlike." Eloise was complimenting her, so she took another bite. Gaining some small shred of credit from the woman felt oddly like being best mates with the cool kid. "Do you like it?"

"Its amazing." Hermione admitted then grinned. After a few more glorious bites she regained her composure. "So what do you want to talk about?

Eloise flipped her wand around in her hand idly as though she'd forgotten what she'd come to talk about. She wasn't fooling Hermione though because in the short time she'd known her, the women had never come off as anything less then calculative. With Eloise there always seemed to be some motive at play. After a stretch of thought she added casually, "do you remember how I said people might fear you if they knew you'd shifted in time naturally?"

"Yes." Eloise had her attention.

"There's no test I can use to confirm my theory but I think I might know how you've gotten here." Hermione was silent and the witch launched on. "Time is my branch of study it's why I knew where to find you see? So I'm well versed in the various ways to travel time, fact or fiction. The thing that's striking about your situation is that you haven't used any of the typical methods; by this I mean a time-turner, or having some sort of magical… accident. Actually having been raised by Muggles who have never exposed you to magic before further removes magical mischief entirely…leaving…" she trailed off looking at her oddly.

"It leaves what?" Hermione questioned impatiently. She set the chocolate aside without a second thought and leaned forward riveted by the truth.

"Natural ability."

"But I didn't do it on purpose."

"Oh! Well _they_ never do."

"Excuse me, _they_?

Eloise shot a flower out of the end her wand. It fell to the earth and gracefully she bent and retrieved it. Restlessly she twirled it in her lap then after a moment she handed it down to her. Hermione decided it was rather like watching magical fidgeting at work. She accepted it and examined it closely thoroughly impressed. Tentatively she smelled it, wondering if it was really real… and not just some strange thing produced out of a wand.

" _They_ are called 'the Tempest,' and what they _are_ , are time shifters." Eloise set her wand aside and leaned in to look her square in the eyes. "They are extremely rare- I'm talking rare as a muggle sighting an albino welch green dragon. And…If I'm right- I'm going to warn you, you can never ever tell anyone."

"Dragons?" Hermione's mind was blown. There were still dragons living? The mention of such almost distracted her entirely from the former topic which seemed just as far fetched. How could she possess such a trait? "I don't understand. Tell who and what exactly?"

"The Tempest," Eloise said in a whisper all the while leaning in and poking her in the chest. "That's you. Are prisoners of time in a sense. They can't stop the time travel because they belong to time."

"I still don't understand and why is it a secret?"

"Tempest's are people that don't need a device or a disaster to travel through time. People who can survive the flux, who… belong to time."

"What do you mean belong to time? How can you-" Eloise cut her off.

"I mean- the timeline makes exceptions for you. It… accommodates you. Allows you to manipulate and be where you choose."

"But I haven't chosen to be here."

"No." She agreed. "But it's a special kind of magic that exists none the less. One in which I am almost 99 percent certain you posses. One in which is feared because the power allows you to shift through time with little to no consequence to your physical being. One that allows you to alter the natural course so subtly that it's accepted."

Hermione listened. It wasn't the _fact_ that bothered her so much as the _logic_ that followed it. As Eloise put it, Tempests were hard to identify because often in their births, their ' _mother vessels'_ shifted in time with them. Eloise explained further that time theorists believed that the phenomenon of ' _birth jumping'_ was a protective mechanism for those afflicted. It was also fatal to the mother who became the unknowing sacrifice in the equation, for while the shifter could belong to whatever time they shifted to as though it was their own… the mother could not. In effect, once the child was cut off the cord the mother was literally aged whatever the span of the jump was in roughly minutes. The child was in effect orphaned by circumstance leaving the mystery of where they come from a mystery to even the shifter themselves. Ultimately this vulnerability of being left alone minutes after birth was also their saving grace.

"But my moms alive." It was highly complicated information for a six year old to comprehend but Hermione had cut to the chase quick enough.

"Millie," Eloise said matter-of-fact. "Your mother is dead _clearly_. Those Muggles you call your parents… the ones who raised you can't _really_ be yours."

Hermione felt like she'd just been slapped and she flushed with anger. She pulled at her bodice feeling heated to the core. This was her life she was discussing so callously! Eloise either hadn't noticed her reaction or didn't care for as Hermione opened her mouth to tell her off Eloise cut in again, rattling on in her detached emotionless tone as though discussing facts on the weather and not serious life altering truths!

"Naturally very little is known of them of course. They spend half their lives trying to fit in and the other half trying to hide… so, much of the information we do have is based speculation and deductions. Rarely do they offer themselves up either because the general population sees them as messengers of doom and they believe Tempest are malicious in essence, hence the name. A Tempest is defined as a violent or windy storm you see."

Hermione felt overwhelmed and Eloise's voice cut in and out, clipping what she was saying into fragmented bits.

"…From personal research I've come to believe shifters can be as helpful as harmful… take Nickolas the Pretender. He jumped between the 800's and 1400's quite regularly. He's the last 'identified' Tempest…"

Could she really be a Tempest? Could her parents really not be hers? Surely they'd have told her if she was adopted? Weren't people always telling her she looked like her dad?

"… while he did cause a stir in Muggle parliament, he was also rumored to having helped the DuBois Family quite extensively… I believe there could have even been a magical link there… after all, it's said that magic can produce a shifter if a given line has need of one… to fix imbalances as it were… but of course as I said already that's not the popular theory."

"And what happened to him when he… spoke up then?" Hermione interrupted.

"Pretender? When they found him out…" Eloise made a choking sound and slashed at her throat with an invisible sword. "He was executed publically."

Hermione's eyes bulged at the thought of having her own throat split open over something she couldn't control. Eloise on the other hand laughed it off. "But of course we won't be telling anyone about _you_ Mille!" she assured. "And don't you see little darling… the _light_ in all of this?" Hermione was at a loss for words. "You're a pureblood, not a Muggleborn! Shifters are _always_ purebloods because only purebloods have enough magical lineage to shift within."

Hermione was aghast. How did being a pureblood make her situation better? After the _light_ had been bestowed on her she withdrew entirely from the conversation. In truth, she didn't trust herself to speak. Actually she felt so violently overcome with emotions just then that she stood up abruptly and rather rigidly started walking towards the house.

"Where are you going?" Eloise shot up to follow. Hermione didn't answer but marched through the backdoor and into the kitchen letting the door snap shut between them. Then she moved in the direction of her bedroom without so much as a backwards glance.

Saul had arrived through the front door at some point for he was now talking to Persephone by the entry. Hermione must have looked a mess for they both frowned sympathetically upon seeing her and Persephone said, "Honey are you alright?" Having someone ask her only made her feel worst and whatever emotional reserves she had left vanished in that very instant. Bowled over with anger, grief, fear and sheer sadness she started to cry.

"Oh Millie come here-" Persephone said in a tender tone all the while opening her arms and moving forward. She froze in her steps once Eloise entered a moment later. A tense and very awkward minute passed as they all looked at each other but said nothing. When Hermione had decided it couldn't get worst, it did. The fireplace flared up and out walked Henry Potter and his nephew Castor.

"I think I need to be alone," Hermione managed to croak out before fleeing up the stairs to her bedroom. She shut the door louder then she meant to and woke Fleamont. His shrill baby cry carried out into the house and everyone was silent for a stitch. Mortified she slid down the wood until she hit the floor then she continued to cry. Over the sound of her own sobbing she could hear the fight beginning at the base of the stairs between the two women and the intermittent voices of Saul and Harry trying to mediate them. Castor she assumed, must have been tasked with looking in after Flea for his thunderous footsteps echoed down the hall on the floor below hers, and the babies cries abated nearly at once.

Hermione felt trapped in madness and she wanted her parent's desperately at that moment. Wiping her nose on her sleeve she hiccupped. She was furious at Eloise but she couldn't really hate her for being the bearer of bad news. While she might have preferred the Saul method of delivery in retrospect she had been given answers. Eloise hadn't sugar coated any of it either but had delivered the facts privately and as though she was an adult.

She stood up and started to pace, rubbing her arms up and down while shivering through her tears. Her eyes caught once more on the tree branch outside of her window. Now she was looking down at it rather then up. Just before Eloise had showed up she'd contemplated the possibility of climbing up into her bedroom window along it.

She walked as though in a trance all the while hearing the shouts from below in some strange muted existence. Her predicament seemed like a nightmare she couldn't wake up from. She was like Dorothy in 'The Wizard of Oz' and she just needed to find some magic red slippers! She'd realize she'd been in a fevered sleep of sorts but had been home all along… in other words…she just needed to wake up!

"You can't deny me access! I'm the best chance she's got! I'm the ONLY one who knows what's even going on!" She heard Eloise shrill from below. "I could take her into custody legally! How dare you! You…"

Hermione drowned them out again and she traced the path of the branch outside her window to the trunk instead. Even though she was in the highest part of the house the tree offered a perfect escape should she ever need one… did she need one?

Her mouth fell open at the implications of her thoughts. She'd never technically been in a tree… but she'd read about them! The window was already open to allow the breeze in and she moved closer as though hypnotized. If this was all some strange messed up dream what could be the harm in escaping down that tree? If she left while they were fighting she might make it to the field before they'd even noticed she was missing. Maybe just being there in that field again would allow her to go home or wake up… or accomplish whatever had to happen to put things back to normal.

Reckless longing seized her, before her confidence fled her she adjusted her dress to see rightly then posed for action. Just as fast as she prepared herself to jump she hung back in hesitation. For her first time in a tree she was asking a lot! She looked down at the ground and then scanned the space between the window ledge and the tree branch. It was nearly a 40 ft. drop and the span between the branch and her window was at least 4 ft. She mentally reminded herself that she hadn't even been quick enough to catch the candy bar Eloise had tossed her not twenty minutes earlier…

Seeing her parents in her minds eye she shook the recent failing from her head and moved impulsively. Cat like she sprung forward and landed in a chaotic mess of limbs on the closest branch then scrambled to secure a good grip. Hanging onto the tree branch rather comically she froze up all together.

God! What had she been thinking? Stupid girl, stupid girl! Berating herself mentally and wrapped around the limb tight as Cling Wrap it felt like an eternity passed before she could convince herself to move again. As she was, she would be safe _if_ she didn't move. Then again if she didn't move she'd have to call out for help… help from Eloise… or even Castor. Not to mention good old loving Persephone who would see her climbing a tree in her special dress. God. No. There was no going back now. She was determined now more then ever, hell she was climbing in a tree to prove it!

"I'm going home," she whispered like mantra as she slid down the branch efficient as a wet blanket. When she finally reached the trunk she looked down. Big mistake! From her window it had seemed high, but hanging precariously from a tree at this height now just seemed idiotic… suicidal even! A tremor ran down her body and her legs quaked to a point where she felt utterly out of control.

"Mind over matter." She coached herself until her body had stilled once more. Turning her physical problem into a mental one deflated some of her anxiety. She counted the branches in her descent and gauged which would be better then others. There were 6 sturdy branches she'd rely on, then a 10-13 ft. drop to the ground. She estimated that she had 30 ft. or so left to cover before she reached the drop. Being roughly 4 ft. tall herself she guessed it would be about 7 to 8 transitions of roughly her height to cover.

"It's just math, mind over matter… I'm going home… I'm going to see Mom and Dad." She built up her confidence as she sat up and hugged the trunk. She'd need to slide down it like a pole to the next branch. Much like a clumsy bear cub in a ball gown she shimmied down nervously but landed solidly on the planned limb. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears and for a few moments and thought she might get sick over the side of the limb she was currently clinging to. She finally managed to calm herself with several long and deep breaths.

Her dress caught on a branch as she reached the second branch in her descent plan and it tore loudly, so loudly in fact she was worried it might alert someone to her actions. Luckily the muted yelling from inside told her they were still too deeply involved in fighting to being pondering what she was doing. The distraction and adrenaline rush the tear provided however propelled her downward and she reached the last branch with little resistance from her uncooperative limbs.

Oh my God! She gasped into her torn lace gloves. She felt unhinged! Like laughing and crying all at once. She looked up and traced her progress to the window and grinned despite the situation. If only mom and dad could see her now! The scrap of her dress hung about 20 feet above her and was flying like a fairy sized flag. Given its shade of yellow you'd probably never notice it unless you were literally in the tree itself as it was July and currently bursting with vibrant green leaves.

Close to the ground now, she gauged the last part of her descent hastily. She just needed to swing down around the last branch into a hang first then drop down to the ground. "Just do it, just go… just…" she urged herself out loud never finishing for boldness had gripped her and she'd swung around the tree limb as planned. Her arms unfortunately hadn't gotten the memo and gave out once the full weight of her body hung under them and she fell into a mess of limbs and fabric at base of the tree.

Cracking her brow open on an exposed root she felt the heat of her own blood run down her face and she rolled onto her back in a daze. She'd done well for never having climbed a tree she thought mentally congratulating herself. She also decided right then and there that she fully appreciated the 'art' of tree climbing whether or not she had previously dismissed it as useless.

God, did she ache! She smiled softly then it faltered. What if she never got to share this with her parents? They'd have kittens just hearing about it! What if Eloise told the others what she was? Would they execute her too? Did they even do that in the 1900's? She was reasonably certain Muggles would do no such thing to a child but these Wizards, with their strange glowing orbs and dragons…"

Determined to make it back to her own time alive she pulled herself up hastily, and for a moment swooned on the spot from her head injury. Hanging onto the wish of being home she fled across the yard and over the short fence Eloise had entered over earlier. Bolting out onto the road she pulled off a glove and held it to her brow as she gauged her course.

Unsure as to where she needed to go, she scanned down both sides of the road. She had apparated from the Oliver's when she'd left and had arrived at the Potters by floo so she'd no way to conceptualize where she was in terms of proximity to the Oliver's Farm without spotting it. She stood there raking her mind for extra details of the Farm and finally made a guess based off the direction Mr. Potter had left on foot when she'd met him. With a 2 year old on foot surely he couldn't live that far from the Oliver's…. And from the Oliver's it was just a long stretch of road to the fields.

The cobblestones tripped her up as she walked but she was grateful she was at least wearing shoes at this time. Her feet were still healing from her barefooted trek earlier that week despite the healing salves Peri had used on them.

Still hot as ever she took off running, winding quickly from her own lack of regular physical exertions. She ran in spurts. Sprinting along until either exhaust or a stitch claimed her then limping along she'd walk until she'd recovered and run again.

Relief washed over her when she spotted the familiar stretch of land and as if extra confirmation was needed, Martin Oliver was out tending the chickens. He was wearing a straw hat and looked directly at her then raised a brow as though he'd never seen her before. Scratching his head he went back to his chickens. That was odd she thought but then she didn't have time to dwell on it either. Before long someone would come up to look in on her, and notice she was missing. She needed to make progress now if she intended on finding the spot before dark. Not to mention she wondered if the magic would only happen if she was alone… she needed to be alone again right?

Huffing, she turned one last time to view the Village behind her. She was at the edge of the forest now and it was on the horizon as it had been days before. Only now she was leaving it. "I'm going home." She said wishing with all her might then turned and took off running again.

 **AN: Thanks again for reading, review if you get a chance!**


	5. Chapter 5

Tempus Fugit

Chapter 5

 **AN:**

 **Thanks again to everyone who has read this story. Sorry this is coming out WAY later then planned! Life! Quickly I'd like to say I am really glad to finally be writing a story for this site but goodness is it a ton of work! On the plus side I am improving in leaps and bounds… on the down side it takes so much time! Anyways, hats off to all the authors on this site that I've read over the years. I've been oblivious to the amount of time it takes and I worship you all even more!**

 **Back to the story… Hermione's little lion heart is in the works! I am thrilled you are all reacting to Eloise, Saul and Henry like you are. It's just the response I was hoping for.**

 **A quick heads up:**

 ***Harry is Henry's nickname (this is also where I imagine Harry got his name from in the first place- given JK's penchant for renewing family names…)**

 ***Also I will be transitioning Hermione into the name Millicent (Millie) for the sake of the story at this point. I might use Hermione as the POV reference title and then write her as Millie- but one way of the other I am also trying to reflect her own transitions into using the name as well.**

 **Thanks for reviewing; JuliSt, Arnold DeVillena, and 'Guest' reviewer**

 **Enjoy!**

 **July 17** **th** **1899 – 4:30 PM - Henry Potter - Potter Residence - Godric's Hollow.**

While the tension in the room was tight as a noose the combined efforts of Saul and Henry had ameliorated the fight between Eloise and Persephone enough that they had at last grudgingly pocketed their wands. Despite this temporary lull it was abundantly clear that there was still enough heat remaining to restart the fire. Hands free of weaponry and rooted stiffly in place they continued in their attempts to stare each other down like a pair of unyielding oaks. In the absence of heated and well-directed slander Henry realized that the house at large had too, gone quiet. As a rule, in a home containing children, silence can never to be trusted.

"I'm going to look in on the boys," Henry announced to the room at large though his wife and the equally fixated Eloise were entirely absorbed in their power play.

Saul looked rather green at the prospect of being left alone with them. "Maybe I'll fetch Millie too if she's feeling up to talking now."

Henry hustled from the room before anyone could stop him. Moving up the stairs purposefully he felt the stress melt from his frame with each step he put between himself and the group. Frankly the anger in that room had been rather suffocating and he didn't have any desire to return to it, for while he'd never been one to walk from a conflict if his presence was required, he would never be the type to march towards it either. His wife on the other hand, while happy in the quiet life they lived had always had a taste for politics and debate. Her words carried strength and power, and her ability to stand her ground no matter what was intimidating.

Despite her hidden tigress, Henry loved Persephone more deeply then ever. She was smart, driven, and had a heart made for love. She had that girl next-door quality to her. Nothing screamed at you but rather set in. Had she walked into a room with Eloise for instance, she might be overlooked at first, but then- just being in her presence won you over more and more each time. You'd come to notice how subtle and soft her alabaster complexion and how the light caught on the golden strands in her chocolate brown hair. Like a fine bottle of wine, time only increased her appeal.

Consequently, his own brother would have married her in a heartbeat had she taken to him. Lucky for him, Persephone had already formed an attachment to himself before she'd met his brother. Hector (Castors father) was older by 3 years and seemed to outrank him in everyway save marriage. He had been the first Potter to branch out from the family profession in nearly four centuries! As an Attorney he'd grown far more accustomed to speaking then not.

Hector was a real 'go getter'. He'd made excellent connections within the Ministry, and built a foundation of security from his wealth and influence. Hector had tried to steal his wife Persephone the very first time he'd introduced her to him. Not that Henry faulted him any longer… she was a catch and he knew it! Besides it was all in the past now that he was married too. He'd met his wife through a connection in Magical law enforcement, and while she was no Persephone, she seemed a good match for him.

Henry picked up the sounds of the boys playing before opening the door. Fleamont was riding on Castors back like a prize horse and both of them were laughing. Henry looked a great deal like his brother and Castor flinched like he'd been caught. He would have quit the turkey business at once and maybe apologized had it been Hector. Henry couldn't have been more different from his brother in that regard. Recovering from the shock Castors look of alarm changed into a shit eating grin.

"I think all horns have retracted and it's safe to join us now. How about we swing up stairs and grab Millie before we get into some snacks?"

"Milk!" His son shouted running merrily for him with outstretched arms. Fleamont never had to be told twice when food was on the line. Henry bent and scooped him up. Merlin! How much larger he seemed suddenly! Young man was growing like a weed! Castor stood up and brushed his trousers off.

"You sure about that girl? Are you really going to keep her?"

"Is she dreadfully awful?"

"Well, she is a _girl_. And she's boring."

"Well maybe she'll change your mind at some point." Henry put in, amused. Castor followed him out the door unconvinced.

With Henry leading the way up the stairs, Fleamont played peekaboo with his cousin over his shoulder as they walked. Millie's room was one of two rooms on the top floor of his home. Her new room had been crafted for a child Persephone had miscarried a year earlier. While it may have made some women sad at that thought of giving it to another (salt in the wound so-to-speak), for his wife, having little Hermione in it was like having fate smile on you. Already he'd seem a happy change in her with the chance to mother the lost child as her own. Like a lost kitten however, he worried for his wife in the unlikely event that the girl found a way home.

The landing above was silent as the grave when they came upon her door. He couldn't make out even a sniffle beyond the door…. Poor dear, he thought, she must have cried herself to sleep!

Castor knocked a few times impatiently, didn't wait for an answer and instead swung the door open and strutted right in. Henry was a bit more accommodating. He leaned in politely from the doorway respecting her space, before he at last set Flea down and crossed the threshold. The bed was made and nothing at all seemed out of order. The window was open and a breeze carried in causing the curtains to fly up like a banshees. Flea shrieked out gleefully and sprung towards them.

"She's not here." Castor said bluntly. He opened the wardrobe to look inside, then he stuffed his hand into the back and slid it deep into the corners as though playing hide and seek. Henry dropped to his knees to look under the bed instead. Castor crossed to look into the toilet next with the same disregard for privacy. Then shrugged at him and shook his head.

"Her loss. How about that snack?" Castor said without a shred of concern and left out the way they'd come. Henry sighed at his back. How very odd, he thought. Maybe she'd already gone down? Maybe she'd cooled off on her own and faced them while he'd been retrieving the boys? Resolutely he picked his son up against his wishes (for he was still having fun swinging around in the curtains) then followed after Castor. Always one for competition Castor took off running once he reached the stairs and Henry staggered to keep up failing behind only when a well aimed jab in the eye from his son stopped him momentarily.

"Eye Ball." Flea giggled.

"Good gracious. You're right. What a smart boy." Henry winced from the sting of his sons fingernails. His eye welled up immediately and he had to blink the tears back. By no surprise his nephew reached the others first. Henry heard the garbled tones of his nephew through the door and only made out the very last of what he said, "I don't know, but she's gone."

"What do you mean she's gone!" Eloise snapped incredulously. Castor stopped in his tracks and raised his brows, affronted by her tone and manor. He looked remarkably like his brother in that moment. "Where is she really boy? This is hardly the time for silly games!"

"Gone?" Peri quelled the comeback from their nephew with a look and a placating hold on his shoulder. "Surely she's hiding, she can't just be gone."

Henry felt the presence of Persephone in his head then. He felt the soft probe of her wash over him and let down his guards for he had nothing to hide. She was by no means a Legilimens but she did read people and situations with more inflection then most. She could also influence you if you let her.

Peri looked at Castor next and he could hear the echo of her thoughts in his brain. She was considering whether it was wise to speak or not while Castor was present. She rationalized that the boy was closer to them then his parents and decided to trust him despite of his age. Henry consciously shook her hold on his head then, he didn't need to have both of their thoughts to deal with!

"Could she have gone _back_?" She finally said. The Unspeakables locked onto each other with an unfaltering gaze deliberating the question and it's answer without words.

"Let's look for her the old fashioned way before we draw any hasty conclusions." Saul said quickly.

"But- would we feel it if she had gone? You said there was an explosion in response to her arrival… should we expect one in her leaving?" Peri questioned Saul directly now. Her logic spot on and entirely viable given the information they'd been given thus far. Eloise made a sound of irritation deep in her throat. She'd made it known to them more then once in the past week she outranked her partner within her department. Not to mention told them just as many times about how she was acting as its head as well.

"Now's not the time," Saul said hastily. "Lets get moving should we?"

"We can split up, we'll cover more ground quicker that way. I didn't hear any doors opening, did any of you?" Henry added as he passed his son to his wife in an attempt to settle her further. "Surely she couldn't have gone far, I can check my lab…" He was already moving in said direction though he was sure she wouldn't hide there.

"The windows are all open." Eloise observed without moving an inch. She was strategic in a way that worried him. He held the knob the basement in his hand and let go to listen.

"Of course they are, it's hotter then the dickens!" Persephone exasperated irritably. She narrowed her eyes at Eloise and her free hand settled onto her hip. "Are you suggesting she climbed out her window? Do you even _realize_ that her room is on the 3rd floor?" The unspeakable glowered at her.

But Henry knew where she was going with this and he didn't like it one bit. In fact it made the hairs on his arms stand up right. "She's not expressed one wit of enjoyment from climbing, honestly she doesn't even like climbing the stairs much."

"But that tree it goes right up to her window… I saw her looking up at it when I arrived. Snug as a bug in the roots and dirt! Are you sure she wouldn't climb it? Not even to escape?"

"Escape?" Persephone snapped. "Escape from what exactly? Escape from _you_ maybe."

" _Oh really_ ," Eloise huffed and stamped her foot. "I'm not trying to accuse you of anything, my _sole purpose_ is in finding the child. But perhaps Mrs. Potter you would find it helpful to know that jealously is a form of hatred based on insecurities."

"Jealously," His wife snorted derisively. Henry slipped between them and his nephew let out a whistle. Castor loved drama and the fight seemed back on.

"You think that boring old prune climbed out of the window and on to that tree?" Castor snorted, looking torn between admiration and loathing. "It won't have been easy. If she could even manage it she'd have had to jump first. I've thought about it myself before but that jump alone has got to be at least 6 ft. or so."

" _Heavens_!" Persephone breathed out at the admittance. A look of horror etched on her face at the implications. Clearly she'd never thought of the tree as a hazard before, but kids did keep you on your toes that way. You where always having to adapt and be proactive in modifying things to keep them safe. Little Fleamont had only just begun climbing up on the furniture. Now suddenly they were worrying about children jumping out of windows and or climbing trees! She moved as if in shock for the stairwell and then took off at a clipped pace all the while balancing Flea on her hip.

"Only one way to put the tree climbing theory to rest." Henry moved for the yard.

Castor bolted around him in the excitement and beat him out the back door. Could she simply be stuck in the tree? He was hopeful at the thought. Of course, for her own sake he hoped she would find a way home but the Unspeakables had already told them it was unlikely. Furthermore in the short span he'd known her he'd already grown fond of the girl.

At the base of the tree Henry craned his head back and scanned through the branches. On first glance he saw nothing to concern him, that was, until he turned his attention to the ground instead. He was hoping to find a set of footprints, but instead he found what appeared to be blood. Groaning, he knelt down at once to examine it. Bright red and glistening, smattered over the face of a thick exposed root. It was still sticky and wet to the touch. "It's fresh," he said noticing too that a tangle of her hair had gotten pulled out on the bark.

"There," Castor said squinting against the sunlight. "She was wearing yellow right?" Harry stood up and spotted what his nephew was pointing at. Flying in the breeze close to the top, a scrap of yellow fabric.

"She was." Eloise answered. Henry startled at the sudden presence of the Unspeakables who were now so close behind him he could feel their breath. Eloise broke back a few steps and started to pace.

"Ellie," Saul said in a tone that spoke volumes. But she was in the thick of her emotions now. Her fists balled up and her expression dangerous. Henry wondered if a person could spontaneously combust. If anyone could he thought she'd be the one. She'd gone beet red and her lips were moving as though fighting with herself. Then she was shouting again, stabbing her hand out into the air to accentuate each of her laments.

"Whatever could have possessed her? Like a blasted _Monkey_!"

Castor began to laugh no doubt tickled at the comparison. He leaned into the tree casually and crossed his arms over his chest, resplendent. His parents were very dignified people. Castors mother (a former Crouch), would have deemed climbing in a tree a task distasteful as marrying a Muggle. Their anti-muggle sentiments were the prime reason they hadn't mentioned to him that Hermione was raised by Muggles. Consciously, Henry reminded himself to bribe Castor later into compliance there. After all, he didn't keep a cauldron of candy for no reason!

"What is it? What do you see?" Persephone called down from the window above. His son Fleamont still poised on her hip cooed out loudly to mimic his mother.

"A scrap of her dress is hanging in the tree and we've found some fresh blood on a root down here." Henry informed. He scratching his head thoughtfully and looked at Saul. "Perhaps she's gone back to the Oliver's?"

"Not likely," Saul said lowering his voice to a whisper. "I modified his memories the same evening she arrived. The husband was particularly difficult to work with to be honest… and as a result I'm not sure to be honest how they'd react to her if they saw her again."

"Wait, wait, wait." Eloise said completely unconcerned in regards to the Oliver's. She was looking at Castor with a renewed interest. "Where would _you_ go?"

"If I was a monkey?" He laughed. Eloise rolled her eyes as if it was obvious.

"You're _a child_. She's _a child_. You've considered climbing that tree- she's actually done it."

"So because I'm a kid I should know what that nutter has planned?" His nephew snorted and shook his head. Henry bit his tongue. He wanted to laugh too but it wasn't the right time. The woman lacked every maternal instinct and sense in regards to children.

"The fields… maybe she's trying to go back… where else would she think to go?" Saul interrupted. Henry liked the man despite his oddness- perhaps he was also odd though.

"Out to the road…" Henry trailed off perplexed by Eloise who was climbing over the short gate into the neighbors yard. "Good heavens woman, we've got a door."

"Millie saw me come in this way," she enlightened them without turning or looking embarrassed in the least. Saul shrugged at him and followed after her and while Henry knew better then to invite himself into his neighbors yard he found himself getting in line behind Eloise too.

Persephone met them in the front just in time to see Eloise pick up Millie's bloodied lace glove. Peri let out a sound like a balloon deflating as Eloise held it up carefully and preformed a preservation charm on it. As if holding a diamond the Unspeakable pocketed it and said, "Well this trail is hot."

"Henry." Peri shrilled. He knew what she was thinking. She wanted to be sure Eloise didn't find her first.

"Castor go inside and wait with your aunt. In the case Millie comes back someone ought to be here." Castor looked put out by this statement but knew better then to argue. Persephone crossed the lawn and kissed him swiftly. "Be careful," she whispered into his ear. Then she turned nodded only at Saul and followed Castor inside.

 **oOo**

The remaining trio took off down the street. Martin Oliver was walking up his front steps when they reached his farm. "Mr. Martin, I don't mean to trouble you but have you by chance seen a young girl come this way recently? Wearing yellow?"

Saul began to fidget the moment he'd called out to his neighbor and had further pulled his hat down to cover his face. No doubt obliviation was far from a guiltless act but Henry could respect a man who showed discomfort rather than indifference to such things. His partner on the other hand stood importantly at his side, chin thrust up like he owed her more then an answer.

Mr. Martin seemed more then a little addled. For a very long moment he stared at him as though trying to piece together just who he was talking to. With the exception of several annoyed sighs coming from Eloise they waited patiently for his answer.

"As a matter of fact." He said at last removing his straw boater and wiping at his brow. "Headed down that road in a hurry. Been near 40 minutes I'd reckon."

"Much obliged." Henry said without explanation. 40 minutes, he thought inwardly, she hadn't wasted any time had she?

They moved up the road a few feet and debated out loud. Apparating wouldn't be of use in following a trail because they'd miss clues along the way. Still it was a good walk to the tree line that bordered the meadows. Finding Millie would become more and more difficult as the evening fell too. At last they set off in a hurry to follow and once they'd reached the tree line stopped to reassess.

Harry wondered how they'd come to find her in Godric's Hollows in the first place. A child without a wand could exactly be traced could she? He wondered at the things that went on in that department, though having been there now once before felt as though he'd be happy not revisiting it. The melancholy feeling that had washed over him that night in the Department of Mysteries had lingered on for days.

Eloise and Saul seemed to be exchanging in some odd fashion without words, and Henry hazarded a look at Eloise who looked flushed with the efforts of running in a corset. His wife chose not to wear one despite the fashion and he can't say he blamed her for he couldn't imagine that they were comfortable in the slightest.

"We could pick up a _piece_ in the lab… and intercept her." Saul ruminated.

"An ornament could help," Eloise said breathlessly. She leaned onto a tree for support. She looked briefly over their surroundings and when her eyes settled on Henry a curious expression stole over her face. "Or we could use _him_."

"Use _him_? Use me?" Henry baffled. The pair was now looking at him with avid interest and he felt more like an object in an experiment and less like a person.

"A blood ritual." Saul mused.

"My thoughts exactly." Eloise said breathlessly. Despite the fine sheen of sweat cast over her he couldn't help but notice that her hair looked radiant as ever. The brewer in him wanted to ask her if her hair was natural or a product had helped achieved those results. Shaking his head free of his hair potion. He gripped his wand tightly then withdrew it obviously. He wasn't about to give into whatever they liked! He'd be ready to defend himself. He he'd been an expert dueler in his day. While he may have grown slower over the years, he wouldn't give in without a fight!

"Oh Henry put that down, we aren't going to kill you, we just need a drop of your blood." Eloise rolled her eyes as though he was over-reacting. Then she pushed off the tree, swiped at her hair and shuffled forward.

"Oh yeah! For what?" He took a big step back to create an even larger space between them.

"If I told you _that_ we might need to kill you." Saul gave a nervous laugh and walked towards him ignoring his wand. Then he thumped him on the back encouragingly. "She's kidding of course." However Henry noted he got no further explanation and was promptly asked to hold out his hand.

Eloise meanwhile had bent over awkwardly (likely from wearing a corset) and pulled up her skirt to reveal a dagger she had strapped just above her ankle. She smirked at Henry as though catching him cheating on his wife then she revealed another inch of leg before dropping her gown back into place. Saul hardly noticed her act. It was likely the reason they'd been paired, for when Eloise had a mind to entice he was sure she usually got her way.

The oblivious partner however had already begun waving his wand in a complicated pattern. Softly Saul began to mutter in Latin. Some words sounded familiar and others that sounded more like gibberish. Bright purple lights shot up from his wand like ribbons and arched out around them, then dropped around them until they were enclosed in a glowing web like dome.

"The web that has no weaver," Eloise's mystic voice all but sung out into his ear what she considered an explanation. "We are all connected by strands of energy… links if you like. The child may have linked to you in the time she's been in your home and presence so we are attempting to evoke that possible bond to track her."

Henry was so entirely engaged by Saul's actions and Eloise's soothing tones he felt almost lulled into a dream, all around him the air vibrated with energy and he could feel a strange and soft little tickle deep in his chest. Spellbound Eloise took advantage of the distraction and flipped his hand palm up without reaction. Swiftly she cut across it before he knew what was happening. As the blade cut him and his blood spilled forth, the feeling in his chest intensified to a point it took the pain from his hand entirely. It was like a warm and happy hug, the kind you get from your mother as a child when you in sore need of one. When they are your entire world. He felt himself turn from her and aim his body in the opposite direction, he felt compelled towards it actually. When he stepped forward the strands burst and little glittering specks of gold danced in his vision and fell to the ground around him, but he didn't stop- he marched like a toy soldier in the direction that pulled him.

 **July, 17** **th** **1899- 6:30 P.M. - Eloise Mintumble - Outskirts of Godric's Hollow**

Distracting Henry could sever the link and that it was a relatively new link made it all the more fragile… so Eloise and Saul remained quiet as they trekked through the tall grasses and trees. Henry's body moved as though he'd been hypnotized. He moved through thickets, and gullies without the slightest hesitation. Eyes glazed over, even his body looked like someone else was walking in it. Eloise felt a small swell of pride in the display. She and Saul had worked seamlessly and it was no easy spell work!

It was nearly another 40 minutes before they last they found her. Henry's face was cut and bleeding in several places by then and his clothes torn and dirty. He'd fallen more then once and since he'd been under the spell, they'd had to leave him to suffer them. Eloise and Saul were looking only slightly better having had a chance to react to the environment as they followed him.

Pensieve and unmoving Millie was seated in the high grasses like a bedded deer. So quiet and still she was and her dress so congruent to the flaxen yellows in the grass, she could have blended right in hadn't a strange magic been pulling Henry to her. The Unspeakables hung back and watched as he joined her.

The spell lifted when he reached her and at once he stopped walking and shook his head. He blinked several times, and looked around before accepting he was indeed awake. Without words he sat down beside her and took up her hand. Together they simply existed together with her with their backs to them. Eloise felt settled, the girl had been found. They didn't need to rush up on them now, nor did they need to hear the explanation for her leaving. Besides Eloise was pretty sure she knew that already.

"You suspect they've _linked_?" Saul arched his back into a stretch without looking at her. Eloise wasn't sure how he did it but Saul always seemed to know her what was on her mind.

"It's more then obvious now." Eloise felt a prickled flush of emotion akin to jealously watching them. Surely she couldn't feel jealous of a pitiful child could she? She admonished herself inwardly then snorted out loud at the thought. Saul turned to look on her and raised his brow but said nothing. Eloise ignored her partner's gaze and stared at the space around the man and child. Like a Halo the air around them glowed softly with gold illuminating them in the darkening field.

"Lets get back to the department," She conceded through a yawn, "I'd like to run a few experiments." She cast another preservation charm on the knife which had been hovering before them until the spell had completed. She tucked it into her pocket alongside Hermione's bloodied glove for later use. Blood was a powerful substance, one that was often overlooked in her opinion.

"Should I tell Henry?"

"Tell him what? He knows we'll be back, we can't exactly drop this research can we?" She frowned at his reaction to her choice of words. Of course she understood the child wasn't simply research, but what should she have said otherwise? Were they not here to investigate the mystery of her magic? Did they truly have any other reason to feel obligated to her? Eloise brushed off the look with a well-practiced front. She stood up tall and with as much dignity as she could muster began to make her way back to the road.

Saul who was not far behind her cast a spell and a silvery wisp rushed past her and up the path towards Godric's Hollow. He shrugged, "Mrs. Potter should know we've found her in the very least."

Eloise hadn't thought of her. Feeling more then a little rattled, she wiped the forestry from her person in a rush. It had been a good long while since she'd felt the stings of others judgment, or the pangs of her own. What was wrong with her today? She clenched her fists and released them and without a word to Saul apparated to London.

Saul caught up with her in the lobby. He didn't say anything about her not waiting. She wasn't about to wait around and explain things to him anyways! She felt distinctively upset at present and she didn't want to face the rationales for such feelings. In fact she'd rather pretend like they weren't there at all, no matter how personally damning it was to lock up feelings! Door number 9 was a clear enough indication of how well locking up emotions worked!

With Hershel still in the Hospital she was still acting as Department head and her colleagues greeted her a little bitterly at her entrance. Overall it had never been easy as women to gain her place in the ministry and her department in particular had been even more difficult. She was the first female in her young department actually.

Men she found to be of great disappointment. They were always feeling entitled or else blaming you in one way or another for being better then they were. It was easy to make it seem as though she used her sexuality to gain her position of power, much easier then admitting that she put her work far before her personal life… that she had bypassed many things including; love, companionship, and money in order to raise to the position she had.

Saul was winded as he took a seat beside her and he brushed his long wheat blonde hair out of his eyes. She would never admit it out loud but sometimes Saul was the one person that kept her all together sane. He understood her better then anyone in her life and she sometimes felt more then a little threatened by that. Shaking slightly she withdrew her specimens and laid them carefully on the desk.

"We could trying typing her… come up with a bloodline. If she is a pureblood her blood should be compatible with that testing."

Eloise let out a measured breath. She hadn't thought about testing the blood until that very afternoon when the situation had presented itself. The truth was she worried about what the results of conducting such a test on such a person would yield. It was far more than an answer of family name that they were chasing after all! For instance, they knew she was a pureblood by her ability to survive the jump as she had, so if her blood defied the traditional lineage test what did that mean?

If her pure blood defied standard blood tests could it be used as the conclusive proof needed to expose a shifter? Her own personal theories on shifters would have hypothesized it. Could it be that easy though? Could a shifter could be penned down to blood by their resistance to magical traces? Was that part of the abnormality that produced them? She licked her lips at the thought of a new procedure with her name stamped on it. One that could validate and prove a Shifters existence. One that could lead to predicting the anomaly in the future.

"Your thoughts?" Saul tried.

Eloise wasn't a forthcoming person. Actually she didn't trust anyone… not anyone until Saul that was. The man had always kept his word to her despite the fact that he disagreed with her often. She knew it too- even if he never told her. She met his eyes for a moment and shook her head at him. She didn't know how to even start. Falling back on habit she began to pace. Not her usual angry pace but a more slow sedate version. The thinking pace, the methodical rhythm of her legs moving in a comfortable patter that calmed her nerves. This would be a scientific breakthrough! Damning as it was revolutionary though. Hiding was a shifters one real protection. This research would mean exposing _her_. Exposing _them_.

"Ellie, I'm off for some coffees." He stood up. "Want yours black, or some vanilla today?"

She stopped pacing abruptly and stared at him. How could he be thinking about food at a time like this? She felt her right eye twitched in annoyance. Her stomach gave an audible growl proving he was more in tuned to her needs then herself. "It doesn't matter, whatever," she waved him off.

Once she'd heard him leave out through the main exit, she gave up pacing due to plain exhaustion. Still bristled, she tried out Saul's technique of calming instead. Slowly she stretched her neck from side to side and took several measured breaths while counting backwards from 10 to 1. When she at last unclenched her hands she saw that there were little fingernail marks set into her flesh of her palms. She must have been clenching her fists tighter then she realized. All at once her methodical brain (which had been moving at a rate faster then she could keep up with) went to mush and she fell into her seat feeling both wound up and exhausted.

 **July 17** **th** **1899 - 9:30 P.M. - Saul Croaker- Department of Mysteries**

Saul wasn't really prepared for the witch he returned to. Hands full of coffee and croissants- his appetite almost entirely vanished at the sight of her! Stubborn old Eloise had clearly hit a wall. Seated before her desk, she was staring at the specimens looking… vulnerable! His mind felt baffled. The nerve of her! Had hell frozen over? Was Eloise capable of such an emotion?

Even as his head worked to process the chance happening she was reestablishing her boundaries, puffing up and throwing back her shoulders. Pretending her sniffing was due to a nose itch she brushed it off in a well preformed fashion and raised her chin.

"I thought you might like vanilla today," he set her drink down carefully avoiding her eyes. He felt confused and with Eloise it was best to hide that feeling. Confusion was something his partner equated to ignorance and showing ignorance would only irritate her further. In fact the situation was a double edged sword, just being present for her show of emotions had already damned him more then he could repair easily. No. It was best not to acknowledge what he wasn't even sure he'd noticed in the first place.

He dug into the paper bag instead of speaking and set a small spread of treats between them. He'd had them all cut down the middle for sharing at the shop. Then he chose a half of the ham and swiss croissant and bit into it as he took his own seat. He could feel her eyes on him as he did so and he studiously ignored her whilst he turned his own attentions to the problem at hand.

"Any luck locating the first edition yet?" He didn't bother to cover his mouth, maybe it would stop her staring.

"No." She picked up half a chocolate croissant. She relaxed visibly knowing he wasn't going to address the elephant in the room. "I've sent out a request to preview the Headmasters copy though."

"And was Black compliant?"

"He has yet to respond."

Saul chewed his sandwich thoughtfully. The Founders Prophecy hadn't only been recorded in the Hall of Prophecy. Actually it, like the others in its section preceded the Departments existence itself! The Prophecy was said to have been witnessed by the four founders of Hogwarts itself. Delivered by a mysterious woman who'd appeared and vanished within the span of ten minutes or so. Furthermore according to hearsay, it had been recorded by hand in each of the original scripts used to create Hogwarts a History.

Of course with every new version created it had slowly vanished without a trace. And the newer versions now were only loosely based on the accounts of these very early copies. As it stood there were rumored to be 3 copies left in existence to this day. They were furthermore certain that the school it self would house at least one of these originals. Phineas Nigellus Black was the current headmaster though. A he was reputably a very stingy man unless he saw it as advantageous to himself to aid you. Likely they'd need to come up with a barter of some sort.

"Alright, so we have a child who is potentially linked to The Founders Prophecy. One that has the ability to 'shift' in time… one that seems linked in one way or another with room 9." He mulled the facts as they stood out loud.

"A Tempest." Eloise said in a strange strangled tone as though she was worried of how he'd take the news… when in fact he'd already considered it himself. He considered how big it was she was for the first time talking to him as an equal… or as close as you could come with her.

"The linking would be more explainable if she was a Tempest." He said softly feeling quite sorry for the child. "The blood then?"

She nodded, her face not her typical expression but something emotionally off setting, like the calm before a storm. "We'll need to collect a few items… and wait for the others to go home. I think you know we can't loop anyone else in on this… not yet anyways."

Saul contemplated how long they'd need to wait. Unspeakables didn't exactly work the typical hours and most everyone in the department was a workaholic. It'd be well after midnight that was certain.

"Yes," he agreed. The more people knew, the more dangerous the situation would become. For the first time since the explosion Saul felt relieved at Hershel's absence.

 **July 17** **th** **1899 – 9:30 P.M. - Hermione Granger- Potter Residence, Godric's Hollow.**

Hermione felt close to crumbling the entire walk home. Eyes and lips swollen from crying she felt dazed and all together drained. Being a wizard, Harry had of offered to apparate them but there was something comforting about 'walking it off' like a Muggle. Her body ached from the rigors of physical exertion far exceeding any she'd ever achieved.

Henry had a firm grasp on one hand as they walked and her other was clutching the scrap of her old dressing gown (she'd found in the woods) like a teddy bear. She'd smelled it upon finding it and had discovered that her time jump hadn't robbed it of the lingering scent of her mother's favorite detergent, Spring Rain.

"They won't be at home when we get there… will they?" She meant the Unspeakables. While she knew they had meant well, it felt nice to be rid of them for the moment.

"No, I imagine they gone for the night." He said allowing the crickets to sing out for them as they walked. "Millie, I have to admit, I don't know that I can stop them from coming… and…"

"They're the best chance I've got." she returned. He stopped walking just to find her eyes in the darkness then nodded before starting out again.

"It's easy to forget you aren't older then you look sometimes." Henry observed gently. "I'm sure whatever it was Eloise said outside… she was thinking along the same lines. It's all right to stand up for yourself though… I mean rather then… "

"I promise in the future to keep my tree climbing escapades to a minimum." Hermione interrupted. "Truth is, I've never been in a tree before today."

He chuckled in the darkness. "So she poked the sleeping dragon eh? I'd have never guessed you'd consider scaling that tree! Glad for my potion anyways the branches seemed to have held well?"

She smiled and shook her head in the dark. Henry had a one tracked mind. He was truly a passionate Brewer. "Your potion seems to have _worked wonders_ ," she complimented.

It was full darkness when they arrived at the Potter residence. Henry pulled a note stuck to the mirror just inside the threshold. He read it quickly then set it aside. "She's gone to return Castor." Not having to face either Castor or Peri in her fragile state calmed her considerably further.

Hermione felt a guilty relief at the discovery of Mrs. Potters absence. It wasn't as though she didn't want to see her, on the contrary she liked Peri very much, it was more of a matter of how Peri liked to talk about things; feelings, schedules, and shopping lists. It was always a discussion with her and Hermione didn't want to talk tonight. She didn't want to feel or think either. What she _did_ want was a bed and some dreams to appease her.

"Come with me…I want to show you something I think could be of a comfort." He gestured in the direction of his lab.

"The play?" Despite the house being empty she found herself whispering.

"Even better." He whispered back leading her down the stairs down to his lab. Their path illuminated by his wand and Henry stopped to light a few lamps as they descended the long staircase, then a few more once they reached the tables at the labs core.

"It'll be here someplace." He lowered himself down to his knees to peer into the shelves below the tables. She watched him root around under the bench for a moment before he said, "ah ha," and stood up. Then he used his magic to hover a large basin out onto its surface. The basin was made from a glistening black stone, and was wide and shallow.

"Obsidian," he informed with pride. "Persephone gave it to me as a wedding present."

"What is it?" She felt completely riveted by the stone as if it held a secret.

"A diary for the visual sort of person."

"But if there aren't any words how is it visual?"

Harry didn't stop to answer but rather moved towards his potions stores on the opposite wall. After locating a large jug of something on the lower shelf he hefted it by hand like a gasoline drum over to her. "Oy! Heavy as a dog! Don't know how Muggles get on day to day!" He chuckled to himself then used his wand to raise the drum into the air. He poured out a measured amount of its contents with his wand then flicked it to cap it back off and send it whizzing across the room back to the place he'd taken it from. The basin emitted a soft flash of light the moment the liquid touched it then went dark as pitch again.

"Now," he said summoning a box from the top of the same shelf. A small rectangular box flew into his grasp and he dusted off it's lid with his free hand before opening it. "My wand from my first year at Hogwarts… a bit banged up but it was my fathers and his before. Bit of a tradition… now it can serve to help us again."

As Hermione accepted the wand into her grasp she felt the thrill of power rush up her arm to her core. She wasn't naïve to the sentiment of Harry lending her his family wand. She felt honored for just been shown it let alone handling it! That he'd let her use it was just another of the ways Henry and his family had offered their unconditional love to her, something that made her situation bearable.

"You have a great affinity for magic _little queen_ ," he told her. She smiled at his statement for it revealed that he'd not only taken the time to pick up a copy of the play (A Winters Tale) but he'd at some point managed to read a portion as well.

"Now, I want you to think of your parents. Think of whatever you want to see. A calm evening dinner, or a birthday party, whatever memory you like." He wasn't looking at her but readying the potion and she felt her curiosity bubble up.

"Then what?" she was intrigued.

"Have you got one in your mind?" She shook her head. "Well focus on one, you'll see- and trust me you'll be happy about it. "

Hermione took a deep breath and chewed her lower lip. She rustled through her head for a happy thoughts of her parents. Of course there were many but she wanted it to be extra special. At last one stood out above the others…the last time they'd gone out to the theater, they'd had desert at a fancy restaurant all dressed up and her mother had been giggling from all the wine she'd drank through the evening.

"Alright," she said at last smiling at the memory.

"This will feel like a cold touch, but continue to think of that memory while I touch your brow." She trusted him explicitly in spite of her fears. He'd done nothing but prove himself to her in the short time she'd known him. Leaning forward she allowed him to touch her brow. She shivered as he pulled a shinning silver strand from her temple and dropped like a worm into the basin. A flash of her mothers face beckoned to her from it's surface then went dark again.

"I just saw my mom," she exclaimed louder then she meant. It echoed off the walls and he grinned at her.

"I can't take you home in _body_ but I can take you there in _mind_ ," he explained gesturing for her to pick up the wand he'd laid out for her use. "But…best if we don't mention this to the others… strictly speaking underage witches aren't allowed wands..."

"I won't tell a soul." She promised gripped the wand a little tighter now and enjoying the soft buzzing of energy it stirred within her.

"Well then… just follow my lead," he dipped his wand into the basin and leaned into it. As though being sucked in he vanished from sight entirely. She quickly mimicked his movements, setting her wand tip to the liquid's surface she leaned forward feeling the cool touch of water on her face. Then she felt her whole body lurch forward, and her eyes flipped open wide. The sensation of falling gripped her like that moment when you wake up in a dream where you are falling, only now she was awake and falling into a dream.

Suddenly she was there, in her memory of that moment. It was muted in color slightly but it was like stepping into a movie of her life. The restaurant bustled around her and her parents were there before her… breathing and laughing with her! Every part of them perfectly preserved down to the bit of chocolate mouse caught in her dad's short beard. Her heart leapt at the sight of them.

"Not too shabby eh?" Henry said grinning at her reaction. She shook her head mesmerized and moved towards them trying to capture her dad's attention first. He was teasing the memory version of herself and calling her Pumpkin. Ghost like her hand traveled through his like a smoke trail. After a minute she'd stopped trying to gain their attention and instead watched them hungrily. While she couldn't touch them nor could they give her acknowledgement in anyway, she felt a serene comfort in seeing them and in Mr. Potter seeing them too. For that moment they were real and alive, and they existed no matter what Eloise had told her.

"Ah, well. Given the circumstances I suppose you'll need to make the introductions." Henry said kindly for her parents were just a memory here. "They obviously love you very much." He added settling his arm around her shoulders supportively. She leaned into him the way she would have her own dad.

"Dr. Rose Jean Granger and Dr. Richard Hugo Granger." She introduced with pride.

"Healer's you say? Explains your brilliance. Of what then?"

"Their Dentists actually," she corrected with a grin knowing this was just the beginning. "Um.. Teeth… Healer's," she added in regards to look of confusion on his face. Minutes of blissful comfort passed before he spoke to her again. Like he'd done on their walk not long ago, he seemed to understand when silence was needed more then words.

"We could set this up…anytime you want to see them." He said sincerely and she suddenly felt as though circumstances or not, he meant to provide a home for her come what may.

"Thanks Mr. Potter."

"Henry, or Harry to you dear." He clasped her shoulder affectionately. "Or if the occasion calls for it, you have my permission to call me _Pumpkin_."

 **AN: Please review if you get a chance! You truly are my Potter outlet and it's thrilling to hear your thoughts. Furthermore I am a lone star in my neck of the woods in terms of Fanfiction and Potter obsessions are concerned and to talk Potter with people really makes my day!**

 **Thanks again!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Tempus Fugit**

 **Chapter 6**

 **AN:**

 **Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up! Mommin' ain't easy and my kids are a handful right now. Also we just lost our dog to Cancer** **so it's just been a challenge to find the time and focus! Furthermore, I think I've mentioned I've been writing my series in reverse… that being said, the next few chapters of this story are really vital to later stories so I needed to take the time to line it all up properly.**

 **FYI, I edited chapter one pretty massively. I felt as though I was loosing new readers to it, so I spent some time to fix it. I've kept all the major points the same but cleaned it up and added 3k words… so a re-read of that chapter at some point wouldn't go astray if you have any desire to.**

 **Finally, thanks to everyone who reviewed, it's such a huge encouragement for me to get feedback of any sort, so thanks! As always, hope you enjoy! Anyone read Robert Louis Stevenson before? I got a ton of inspiration for the Unspeakables from his short story, Body Snatchers, (so wonderfully creepy), and I recommend it if you haven't read it before.**

 **July 18th 1899 – 2:30 a.m. – Eloise Mintumble – Department of Mysteries – Ministry of Magic - London.**

The title, Unspeakable wasn't given simply to denote the implied discretion of their work. Being tight lipped about your work for the sake of security was one thing, but Unspeakables had far more reason to keep their work to themselves. Unspeakables did unspeakable things. Things most people couldn't do with a clean conscious. It was the principal reason behind why the department had so few employees.

Like a corpse laid to rest in a grave, Eloise knew she'd at last found her home when she'd come to call herself an Unspeakable. Wandering the dark and mysterious labs that made up their twisted little department proved there was a place in the world made for just her.

As an Unspeakable for instance, you didn't waste time asking your colleagues to explain their actions, rather you minded your own business. It was this attitude she held onto firmly as she watched her fellow Unspeakable Fettes, drop a freshly harvested brain into his tank alongside the others.

Poised in the door way she watched in vapid curiosity as the newest brain sunk down into the vat leaving a mossy greenish red trail behind it. The trail dissipated and made the water slightly murky before it was ultimately assimilated into anonymity with all the others.

The other brains (the ones longer in the tank), reached out to touch it with their appendages like little octopuses. What were the brains doing? Had they learned to think outside a host? Were they shaking hands, or planning an attack on it? She wondered briefly how exactly they'd grown the appendages at all, but she knew better than to ask.

Fettes turned then, a clearly pleased expression set in place. There was no guilt when he met her eyes either, on the contrary, the look was much more akin to pride then anything else. MacFarlane (his partner) was using magic to enclose and disintegrate the remainder of the body to which the brain had been taken. He wore an apron splashed with bright red blood, and gloves that dripped over the tile floor.

Eloise was careful not to show a reaction, and settled for a nod at the latter whose reaction to her presence was more pronounced, and much less happy to see her. A quick glance allowed that there were more bags heaped in the corner, and they'd be at work for most the evening. Moreover, they'd want privacy from judgment and they'd avoid her like the deviants they were, banking on the fact she was like them too.

"Croaker and I will be reinforcing the door to Room #9 at some point tonight. I came to give you heads up… we'll try our best to wait until most of the staff is gone as a precaution, but with the way the wards have been shuttering and failing, I don't think it wise to wait longer. I understand your dedication to your pursuits so I only mean this as a warning in case something goes astray."

Neither man answered her, though they nodded in their acknowledgment of what she'd said. While her speech was a bluff, she hoped it would hasten them because she too, had a dark and mysterious task to get into, and she was waiting for her own slim window of secrecy. All-in-all she knew she couldn't press them further, it was a new moon that night which meant many employed in her department would be out working through the evening anyways, because under the cloak of darkness, there was much to be done.

Her heels clicked loudly as she made her way back to her office. Despite her tireless pace that week (and the lingering effects of time travel) she felt wired like she'd drank a full pot of coffee as opposed to the generous cup Saul had provided her hours earlier. She felt hot too, as though her veins held lava and not blood. Quite frankly the rush she was getting off the idea of what secrets she might unearth that night flustered her.

Naturally impatient, Eloise had been by every office in their department twice. Outside her body snatching comrades, and her partner Saul, Gibbons was the last other Unspeakable remaining on site. He'd been immersed in cursed artifacts when last she'd looked in on him first, so begrudgingly she looped to look in on Saul again instead.

It was just her luck she worked with a bunch of social pariahs, she growled inwardly. Didn't he have anything else to get into… like perhaps his wife? Gibbons was the only one married in the department. The state of his relationship seemed in question at present though, for he'd begun putting more hours in then any of the others, and that was saying something when his co-workers included Saul Croaker and her self.

Saul, to her consternation, had dozed off in his chair since she'd left him. She shook her head in annoyance, crossed her arms and observed him sleeping. His head hung low onto his chest like some sort of pathetic puppy and she watched the slow descent of his neck as it bent too far out of line. Eloise could have woken him then, but she felt too angry at the fact he could sleep at a time like this. Rather, she hoped he'd wake up sore and sorry for the blunder.

Eloise uncrossed her arms and casually crossed the room dragging her fingernails across the surface of enormous chalkboard that lined one wall of their office. To anyone usual, the sound was irritating enough to raise the dead. What reaction did she solicit from Saul? Nothing, it made absolutely no effect on his REM cycle.

Frowning at him in disgust, she rationalized that nothing could be done until Gibbons was gone anyways so what harm was he really doing getting a nap in? Maybe she was just angry she couldn't recover from such anxious moments so quickly. Saul was an enigma, a strange, and sorry excuse for a man. All the while, though she'd never admit it, Saul was also the _only_ man she could stand to be in the presence of for more then an hour at a time.

Falling back into pacing, her mind wandered back to her week and ultimately to the child. Being given the chance to skip through time was one of her most frequented fantasies. The opportunities such a life would provide! The chance to live a life of anonymity, or to claim another's riches for your own simply by knowing what was to come! The things she could do! But, was the girl at all grateful for the power she'd been given? Of course not! She was an undeserving, ungrateful little brat! Falling to pieces over loosing Muggles for parents! Ugh! She was so sick of trying to please that little wretch! Children! What a horrible headache they were! So fucking sensitive… it made her want to break something!

Balling her hands into fists, she clenched them until they cracked, then she let out a long exhale and began to pace the department again. There was only one other presence she'd need to worry about that evening and she intended on pestering him into leaving if he wasn't wrapping it up already. With one last scowl of irritation sent at her sleeping partner she moved purposefully onward.

Simon Gibbons was in fact, sleeping himself when she reached his office. His head popped up though when she clapped her hands loudly over his ears to elicit a response. Perhaps it wasn't sporting to wake someone in such a fashion for he clutched at his chest as he woke and looked on her in horror. She watched him indifferently as his double chin quivered and settled back into place. Pathetic, she cringed inwardly noting the large pool of drool on the parchment he'd been snoring over.

"Come now Gibbons, surely your bed is more comfortable then your paperwork?" She knocked on the desk's surface impatiently with her knuckles. His eyes focused onto her chest before crawling their way to her face. "Your wife will wonder what's happen to you."

"My wife," he breathed out. "Yes, better be off…" He conjured himself a glass and filled it with water using another spell, then drank it up like a sponge, smacked his lips and stood up to stretch leisurely before her.

"Well no more wasted hours on ministry budget I say," She dismissed him cheerfully, all the while handing him his cloak. Once he had his things in hand she shuffled him out the door of his office, than swept him efficiently down the long the hallway to the exit. More then likely feeling guilty over her last comment, and still half asleep he didn't argue but rather, managed a "good evening," through a yawn before departing. A smile consumed her face as the department door shut, and eagerly she made back for her office.

Saul had managed to wake himself up in the time she'd been gone and was nursing off something from out of his hip flask. "Whiskey at this hour?" She poked jubilantly, though in truth she didn't care what his answer was because it was time at last! The department was for the most part empty and her partner in crime was roused and ready to resume where they'd left off!

Predictably, Saul stood up and cracked his neck. It was undoubtedly stiff from sleeping the way he had and as he rubbed his neck with a pained expression, she fought the urge to smile in light of his discomfort. Served him right!

Springing back into the task at hand quickly enough, he picked up the vial containing the child's blood (they'd siphoned it from Millicent's glove expertly) and he rolled it in his fingers slow and deliberately. It had been hours since the blood had been separated into layers by magic and now the boundary between red blood cells and plasma looked fuzzy.

"We start with the basics? Age, lineage, then magical trace elements?" He said at length.

"My thoughts exactly." She agreed, appreciating the unspoken connection they'd formed over the years. "We can use Potters blood, as well as our own for controls."

"We should ration Potters blood for now though," Saul asserted. "We're both Purebloods after all. I assume we'll show the same results as his… but if typing her becomes an issue we can use him as a match. It's odd…don't you think… how quickly the girl bonded with him?"

She mulled his thoughts over quietly. She'd underestimated his understanding of the situation at present. Even without her telling him what she knew herself already he seemed right in line with her own suspicions. For instance, he like she, was already hypothesizing negative results. Furthermore, he like she, knew that a negative result in the girl's case was a positive one as well, for it showcased her oddity.

"Yes. I think preserving Potters blood _would_ be wise." She conceded out loud.

Saul hadn't waited for her to answer. Already, he'd slid the stone required for conducting the tests into the center of the table. The stone was made from magically preserved Serpentine, it was deep green and had little crème colored bands running through it. In the candlelight and in the lingering presence of the corrupt magic woken by the recent explosion it looked like a little sleeping dragon.

Lifting his wand like a conductor, Saul levitated three dropper tubes over to the agreed upon samples, (Millicent's and their own), then suctioned up a small portion of blood from each. When they hung atop the Serpentine, Eloise withdrew her wand and pressed its tip to the stone.

"Revelet deus absconsa tua." She said clearly. The spell prepared the stone for blood rituals. It reacted immediately, changing from green to crimson in color, then plumped up like a beating heart.

Perfectly synchronized to her timing, Saul flicked his wrist effectively, dropping a drop of his own blood onto the stone first. The blood hissed as it contacted the stone and turned then turned black and oozed over the side. The stone was ready now, she thought thoroughly satisfied. It would reveal as it could now, any secret she could _spell_ out.

"Dicere aetateum tuam." The spell to identify age came next. As expected Millicent's blood yielded absolutely no result, while their own (controls) identified their ages in rune form… as expected with small variations due to their time travel exploits. For good measure Saul echoed her spell and the girl's blood was void of result once more. Eloise felt her left eye twitch, as they turned to face each other in an unspoken communication that said, _go on_.

"Tua progenies revelare." He said, the words leaving his lips as soon as they'd nonverbally shaken on it. The family lineage charm, a successful result would reveal a magical crest of some sort usually. Again, Millicent's blood hissed on contact yielded no result. Their own blood in contrast, gave off silvery vapors that rose and brightened into transparent ghostlike familial crests above their samples.

Eloise watched them float for a moment before waving an impatient hand through them. The crests burst with her contact and dissolved quickly as they'd come. For uniformity she doubled the spell once more in her own words. No change.

Nervous of what it meant but excited all the same, she rushed eagerly into the next spell. It was the last of the simple spells, the spell to reveal magical core. "Patefacio vestry core magicis!" She shouted, and at once Saul's pensive stance changed into a protective one instead.

This time a reaction occurred, though not the one expected. Instead, a great shuttering groan sounded deep within the department. Even without seeing it with her own eyes, she knew exactly where it had come from. Room # 9.

A piercing cry like the squawk of an eagle shook and rattled the department next. Followed by a tremendous wind that swung doors open and swept papers and personal effects from their desks. Saul stumbled forward just in time to snatch up the remaining blood vials, then he cast a shatterproof charm over them and stowed them in a box beneath their work station.

Momentarily Eloise stood frozen in place, long enough to feel mildly impressed by his quick reaction. Her mental praise of him was short lived though because shouts now reached their ears from deep within the department, and the gravity of being the stand-in departmental head took foot.

"It's Fettes and MacFarlane." She shouted to Saul over the howling wind, her gut clenching like a nervous conscious. Holding herself higher she exculpated herself mentally. Albeit unintentionally, she _had_ provided a warning about reinforcing the door tonight… so any the danger they faced now was _technically_ their own fault!

"We can't do anything for them now," Saul said reinforcing her feelings, all the while bracing himself from a tremor that shook the floor violently.

Had she jinxed them she thought wearily as she held herself upright on the door frame. Were they all going to end up like Hershel now, useless lumps at Mungo's? She felt the immediate desire to run out of the department, but Saul's presence made her stop in her tracks. He was her partner, and she was his superior at present, could she really flee without attempting to help the others?

"We've got to get to that door!" Saul shouted as he fumbling from the room right past her. Eloise floundered before ultimately trailing after him.

The wild unbidden energy of whatever lay behind those doors hit her in a wave as she crossed into its path at the junction. All over her body her hair stood up on end and her heart seemed to beating from inside her throat now. Again as before, she felt a wild desire to flee and save herself from whatever lay behind it.

The offending door was rounded out like a blister ready to pop. It's wood splintering and cracking as though something was breathing in and out behind it. It's shuttering breaths creating a vortex of wind and heat from the movement. Gold dust slipped from its cracks and pooled onto the floor between the stones.

She cursed the girl mentally, for surely she was the cause of this! It was her blood that had harbored this reaction, her presence that made that orb in the hall of prophecy glow. Was an ignorant child to be their brutal end? She lamented the fact that she had once believed the room to house love at all! What fools they'd been!

Surely a room so corrupt could have nothing to do with love! Love was supposed to comfort and create a safe harbor wasn't it? She realized, that truly she knew nothing of love, and maybe she didn't want to. Maybe this is why she'd avoided it all her life.

Eloise felt her chest grow heavy and her breathing become labored. Her head grew light and her vision blurred. Her heart pumped so hard it felt painful, and then her eyelids began to flutter impulsively. She let Saul take hold of her as she grew too weak to stand-alone. How could he withstand the force when she could not?

She felt a rush of humiliation, when her legs gave way and she fell fully into his steady arms. Vaguely she heard a whimpering sound to feminine to be his, and with a fresh wave of embarrassment, she realized it was her own! Vulnerable and needy, she clung to him desperately and began crying mindlessly.

Evermore, the gold dust swirled around them and ensconced her, caressing and tormenting her all at once. Her mind floated in the subconscious realm someplace outside of body then and she wondered if she was dead or just dying? What was happening? Her head dropped back, and her sight locked onto Saul. Good old Saul, shielding her with his own body, face pulled back in exertion.

"Extrue munitions." She saw him lips moving, his voice only a whisper in her ears, lost to the energy on display before them. Somehow he managed to fortify the door, then she registered him releasing her, and laying her on the ground. At once she felt barren and depressed. She blinked her eyes, noting that she could no longer feel, nor smell, nor hear. Her sight too was failing, allowing only short glimpses of real time.

Laying in a crumpled heap on the stone floor she watched Saul working and casting in glimpses before he was again pulling her up into his arms. Warmth, and adoration flooded her veins and she clung to him weakly as he lifted her manually like Muggle then carried her from harm. Feeling safe and secure again, her remaining alertness plummeted, and she fell into a shuttering blackness.

 **July 18th 1899 – 4:30 a.m. – Saul Croaker – Dragons Breath Row - London.**

It was unfortunate to say the least that Eloise's condition was too delicate to risk travel by Floo or Apparition. Instead, Saul had been forced to use a combination of disillusionment, levitation, and manual carry to transport her by foot- first though the Ministry, then through Muggle London, and finally again into Magical London.

His arduous task of whisking an unconscious woman who, by looks alone was far out of his league, off into the night was at least mollified by the fact that it was a New Moon. Without light to expose them (and with the exception of two very awkward run-ins that amounted to him obliviating Muggles unlawfully), most people had been blissfully ignorant of their presence.

Eloise lived in an ancient brick building at the far end of Dragons Breath Row, a cul-de-sac pinched anonymously between Diagon Alley, and Knockturn Alley. Much like the entrance to Diagon Alley from Muggle London, it could only be reached by magic. Furthermore, all of whom resided there wished for solitude and secrecy, so getting onto the street required a heavily guarded password. As luck would have it Saul knew exactly how to get there because he lived in the same building, on the same floor, directly across from Eloise herself.

Dragons Breath Row was a dream come true for the pair of Unspeakables. Its private and unassuming location suited their peculiar comings and goings perfectly. Moreover, much like their co-workers in the Department of Mysteries, the people who inhabited their short inlet either refused to see, or didn't care to see the things that happened outside their own units. Saul exploited the fact brazenly as he'd crossed into their haven, levitating Ellie openly down the road.

Giving himself a mental pat on the back as he walked behind her floating form, allowing his pace to slow enough to let him catch his breath. Had his arms and legs been able to cheer at that moment, they would have, for while Eloise wasn't particularly heavy, he wasn't particularly strong, and at this point in his journey his limbs felt more like limp noodles then working appendages! As it were, (having to walk Eloise back the entire way home), Saul had gained a new respect for Muggles, how they managed without magic baffled him more then ever though!

Truth be told, Ellie was in rough enough condition to warrant a visit to Mungo's, and Saul knew it was risky bringing her home instead, but he also knew that even without her being awake to exercise her personal preference, she would want it this way. A chance to re-group and re-organize would be her plan. Of course if she worsened, he could loose his job for the detour or worst, but ultimately when it came down to it, they'd agreed to protect the Tempest no matter what the cost.

Admitting Eloise to St. Mungo's on the premise that the mysterious room had caused this condition of hers would lead into admitting that firstly the girls blood test caused the door to explode. The tie would then link her to the earlier occurrence and directly align her with the explosion on the night of her arrival, which would eventually lead to the discovery of who and what she was. No, there was no alternative at present when the girl came into the picture… and the girl _would_ be kept a secret even if the Minister of Magic himself were to question them.

The building they lived in was called The Vestige, and it was by far the oldest building in the cluster of tall unassuming buildings wedged into their cul-de-sac. The Vestige was furthermore nearly as old as Diagon Alley itself and Saul suspected that (without its plethora of magical reinforcements,) it might have crumbled into dust centuries ago. As it were, the floors had begun to slope into the center, and the whole building hummed mysteriously with the presence of concentrated magic.

To add to it's quirks, the family whom owned the building had covered every inch of wall and ceiling in memorabilia that proudly displayed the centuries of its history.

Needless to say hovering Eloise (rigid as a board) up the three flights of stairs to reach their floor had been an excruciating task! There had been more then a few sticking points (for instance) where Eloise's hair had gotten tangled up in such heirlooms, the trickiest of which had involved an Erumpent Horn. The horns were of course well known for their unpredictable, and explosive tendencies, and Saul had almost given her up to for the evening! In the end, to avoid tampering with it, and because his nearly endless patience had finally reached his breaking point, Saul had used a well executed sheering charm and sacrificed a large clump of Ellie's hair to the display. She wouldn't be happy with him when she came round, but he'd deal with that moment when it came.

"The things I do for you woman," he told her breathlessly as he reached their floor huffing. Wiping his brow he leaned wearily into his doorframe. Briefly he examined his partner. He'd of course periodically checked her vitals the whole way home but in his haste to get her settled he hadn't yet examined her thoroughly.

Drifting midair like she was, her face so pale and relaxed you could have easily mistaken her for dead, and for a long while he watched her throat, cheeks and chest for movement to reassure him (that despite her corset,) she was still breathing. Momentarily satisfied, his eyes swept past her person to land on her door wearily.

To any other person, a door was a door. Rationally you went up to a door and knocked or else stuffed the key into place and turned, but Saul knew better. This wasn't just any door, it was _Eloise's door_ , a woman he knew to be both overly paranoid and private. Surely it couldn't be so simple as to unlock it and barge in.

He considered taking her into his place instead of hers. She wasn't exactly in the mind to know the difference at present was she? In his home there would be no risk of being cursed and he would undoubtedly be more comfortable. Though, he hardly meant to take her into his home without her expressed permission no matter what the circumstance! Ellie might just hex off his manhood knowing he'd even given it thought!

"Bloody Hell, " he cursed through clenched teeth. Already he felt physically and mentally strained, yet it seemed he'd need to deal with breaking through the puzzle of Ellie's personal wards too, on top of the fact that he still needed to sort her out at the end of it all!

Saul let his head drop to the left and then to the right. Then he let out a long breath whilst counting backwards from ten to one. Some days he seriously questioned his career and partner. Did he really need to live this life of stress? Couldn't he take up a softer science instead? Surely, Herbologists for instance, never had to deal with cursed doors or corsets! Further, tending to the earth, he'd never need to traverse in time at the whim of a maniac woman in heeled boots ever again! Slowly he let out another calming breath out and allowed his anger to dissipate to a level at which he could focus once more on the task at hand.

In his own humble opinion, his one true talent was that he was an excellent judge of character. Focusing solely on his partner then, he set his mind on her barriers. While he'd never actually set foot in her flat before his gut feeling was one of caution. Eloise wasn't the type to allow people into her life and he suspected that without the combination of her physical person and her wand being present, he might have met a barrier or a dozen already, for he had ventured forward in his musings.

Now his real work began he mused, as he considered her door. Despite the literal years he'd spent with Eloise, she remained a complication of the Cosmo's. Having such exposure to anyone else at such intervals, he would have known them well as a book but Ellie's way of thinking and acting was so convoluted and guarded she remained an enigma to him. Each time he had to contemplate her, or her actions, it was as though he was transcribing an alien language to a people who had never considered aliens to exist in the first place.

Stowing his wand away, as though to remove its hypothetical threat, he retrieved hers instead and held it out between himself and the door protectively. Having taken her wand back at the Ministry when he'd essentially rescued her, he assumed that it would be loyal to him, at least for the time being.

Next he summoned Ellie's keys from her pocket and he ended his levitation charm on her. Taking her back into his arms like a Muggle he shifted the busty burden into place, propping her onto her feet as though she was standing. He assumed he'd get as far as the doormat at present before meeting a barrier, so as he stepped forward he shimmied them both forward awkwardly as one unit, all the while holding her wand out before them like a shield.

Starting with his basics, he cast a spell of his own invention and a spider web of neon blue light shot from his wand tip. Slowly but surely, little bursts of energy repelled against his net from the places the spells had been overcome. The magic dissolved and fell to ashes at their feet. Standing aghast, Saul wondered if it really could it have been so simple? He still felt a little weary about the safety in using the key, but his aching arms pushed him past further hesitations. Cautiously, he advanced onto her doormat all the while shifting her along in front of him. He used his other hand to lift her limp palm to the knob. Once her flesh contacted the old brass knob it gave a shutter and let out a sound like a balloon deflating. Letting out the breath he was holding and though shaking ever so slightly, he unlocked the door.

"Curious," he whispered to himself as he carried her across the threshold. The only other person who knew his spell even existed was Ellie. So it was curious that she would choose to use it, and curious that his spell had broken through her puzzles so quick and capably. Maybe he knew her better then he thought? Saul paused to smile as though he'd been given a rare compliment from his partner.

Saul didn't lower her wand or his defenses until they'd moved entirely inside her flat. Her flat was a mirror to his own, so finding his way came easier then imagined. Eloise came around briefly as he set her into her bed. He of course wanted to evaluate her health so he could feel confident leaving her for the night, but her grip which was surprisingly strong given the circumstances, captured his wrist as he made to pull away and held it firmly.

"Saul you… you rescued me," she marveled up at him breathlessly, her face showcasing the strangest set of emotions he'd witnessed from her to date. It was rather like, watching someone trying to literally poop out a porcupine, and an, I love you simultaneously. No matter how severely she'd been affected by that door, he wasn't going to allow such an utterance to occur!

"Ellie, you should really try and save your energy." He told her, all the while trying to pull his wrist free. He revisited the idea of Mungo's again. Was he even capable of caring for her like this? Couldn't he just drop her off and make up a cover story?

"Stay. Saul. Stay with me. Please don't leave," she begged as though able to read his mind. Her request was voiced in such a humble, and polite manner that Saul was rendered guilty at wanting to abandon her, but quickly as his mind made to defend her however, it became defensive again. Obviously, the door had addled with her brain!

Saul groaned inwardly at his situation and for a very long and awkward moment he stared at the inside of her door longing for escape like some sort of caged animal. Eloise had been a ball of emotions lately. Confusing, was putting it lightly. He felt suddenly uncertain about her feelings towards him, and to be honest, very uncomfortable about his state of uncertainty. Truly he wanted to go across the hall and sleep in his own bed… just come back in the morning and make sure she was still alive. Rationally he knew that it was not really a possibility, but could he fault himself for thinking it?

Once more he leaned his head to the right and then to the left until his neck cracked, let out a long slow exhale, then he counted backwards from ten to one. He _should_ stay, his mind rationalized on behalf of his partner. Surely he could watch over her and keep an eye on her vitals, and make sure he hadn't created a grave error in taking her home rather then following protocol and taking her to St. Mungos's in the first place.

Begrudgingly he resigned himself to staying with Ellie for the night and kicked off his shoes. With some convincing, she let go of his wrist long enough for him to remove her shoes as well. How she would react once she regained her composure and found him beside her, and in her flat was anyone's guess… but he supposed it was good that for now at least he had control of her wand.

Saul spied a nightgown then, draped over a lounge chair by her wardrobe. For a moment he lingered on the idea of helping her into it as her dress didn't seem very comfortable to sleep in. With magic to help him he could easy transfer her into the nightgown, he thought. Stopping himself, he realized that at present she'd read into the action far more then it suited him. For the same reason of modesty he finally climbed into bed beside her fully dressed.

Shifting around to get comfortable Saul noticed that Ellie's breath caught and hitched, as if his movement pained her. He also noted that her gaze had softened and a curious and a smile (far from characteristic,) set into place. Quickly he excused her actions as fleeting emotions having to do with the door and looked her over clinically.

Once again his eyes came to rest on her corset. Why on earth she wore one when she was already skinny as a rail was a wonder, but rationally its presence on her person would explain her breathing issues. It could also be what was behind the soft gaze, he thought as he considered the contraption. Surely she didn't sleep in the thing? Surely she'd be more comfortable recuperating without it, (Saul made quick and messy work of undoing the strings before his internal doubts could seize him,) then he watched in satisfaction as her breathing returned to normal, and the color flooded back into her face.

Smiling out of personal triumph, Saul turned his attention back to his befuddled partner. That was also the moment in which he felt the distinction between patient and person blur, for her eyes were now locked onto him so intimately he felt temporarily stupefied. Further, her breathing corrected, Ellie had recuperated enough to bring her body flush up to his. Caught off guard, Saul felt rooted in place by her very intense visual assault. Was she trying send him a telepathic message, he wondered. Saul turned his head to stare at the ceiling, and quite unexpectedly, she took him by both ears and pulled him in to face her aggressively.

"Ellie," he gasped worried he might loose his ears if he fought her grip. Ellie's smile held a triumph of it's own, her prey was captured, and without further warning or delay she kissed him hard.

Saul pulled away as though electrocuted. He knew immediately it wasn't a great response, but what was this woman trying to pull, he thought hotly.

"Saul, all this time… it's been you…" She said dreamily trying to grab hold of him again.

"Whoa, whoa," he managed through a nervous chuckle, all the while squirming to dodge her lips. He attempted to shift across the bed and away from her only to find himself lanced at the wrist again.

"Saul." Eloise said huskily with a smile to match, all the while patting the space between them predatorily. Her invitation was clear and blaring. "Stay. Just lay beside me Saul." Her voice was sweet as honey and yet, he felt like a little lamb circling a cutting block.

"I'm only staying over to keep you safe," he defended.

"My hero." She purred as she patted the space between them once more.

Very wearily he slipped back into place beside her, however this time, he leaned into the headboard rigidly as though he was seated a very unforgiving chair and not a lush feather top bed. In his mind, Eloise was very much like a Black Widow spider, a lover who might give you the romp of a lifetime, and then eat you.

Said spider, snuggled into him again, her nose and lips pressing intimately into the folds of his robes as she kissed his chest mindlessly, (proving that even ice maidens needed warmth on occasion).

Exhausted, but determined to remain awake and to hold his position against further advances, he distracted himself by examining her room instead. Ellie's room was simple but elegant, each piece of furniture well made and priced. Each piece was further more in immaculate condition. The walls were all painted in sage and had little ribbons of silver running through them. Her quilt was elaborately woven and silver to match the walls. And she had delicate lace pillows to adorning the bed and lounge.

Only when he heard the tell tale sounds of sleep breathing, did he caution another look at her. Deep asleep, he brushed her hand from his wrist and with his new small freedom he let his guards come down at long last. Almost at once he felt his cheeks flush at the audacity of seeing her so vulnerable. It was certain, Eloise lacked nothing where looks were concerned, it was just a pity she was a waking menace!

Having nothing further to distract him, he allowed himself to admire her without judgment. The perfect sheen of her hair was only diminished slightly by the sizable lock now missing near her right ear. He'd need to fix that… The clever tilt of her rosy lips, swollen from kissing him, the generous swell of her bosom now released from the constraints of her corset…. Her breasts held his attention much longer then he cared to admit. Slowly he allowed himself to trace the outline of each breast with his eyes alone until he'd sighted the hard nubs of her nipples peaking out from below the fabric of her top.

Naturally, his groin reacted and his mind followed suit. It had been a long while since he'd been with a woman, but it wasn't as though he had time for one with a job like his! Saul rubbed his face and tried unsuccessfully to banish her from his mind, only to find himself pondering about Eloise's love life. He was with her most of his day, and living across the hall had given him ample time to observe her outside of work. Not once had she brought home a wizard or even had one call on her, which seemed odd considering she was gorgeous, smart, and driven. Perhaps she scared men the same way she scared him?

In her given state, Saul allowed her to remain beside him but turned his back to her in order to stop further advances. Holding her would be crossing a line and a boundary struck between them as soon as they met, besides the uncharacteristic warmth from her unnerved him. Without the need to defend against he finally closed his eyes, listened to her ragged breaths, exhaust quickly rendered him nearly useless as she.

 **oOo**

The morning sun woke him earlier then he'd have liked. Hazily, he glanced over at the clock, 6:40 am. While he'd only just gotten to sleep, he reveled in the overall feeling of waking beside someone again. Warm and relaxed and he grasped to remember the dream he'd been having, all the while, the scent of her perfume evaded his nostrils like a sweet and dangerously alluring flower. Gods she smelled good! Saul jolted, the realization that at present he had his fantastically proportioned morning wood digging into the something lush and forbidden.

"Shite." He groaned inwardly. While he'd been sleeping his defenses had failed him miserably! Eloise had taken control of him entirely, with one arm and one leg strung over him she had bound him effectively a thicket of devils snare. Saul's gut twisted at the thought of her reaction were she to wake at that very moment! He was glad in the very least she wasn't awake to see the face he pulled then… pure unadulterated self-loathing at best! He shook his head at himself. No matter how attractive he found Ellie she wasn't his type, far to demanding and exceedingly manipulative.

With unbidden fantasies of being with her still swimming around in his head his first objective became clear, move the offensive piece of anatomy from view, quickly as possible. His first move was defensive, and rather poorly thought out. He rolled quick and brutally out from under her. Eloise dropped off his chest and onto her own pillow severely.

"Blasted woman! He murmured from his new safe distance on the bed. Consciously he solidified his mind against her again only to be thwarted by a sensual groan.

Ellie, still sleeping, shifted to be flush against him. Plastered to his back, she snaked her arm over his hip, hand falling an inch short of his bulge. He felt her burrow her head into his back in an attempt to block out the daylight, along with a throbbing desire from his southern territory.

No. No. No. He recaptured his senses, and focused. She was simply reacting to lingering effects of the love room… all the while… Saul needed a cold shower immediately! Peeling her arm from his waist, he shifted his body and he rolled from the bed all together. Eloise was suffuse with color again, and with her breathing back to normal he felt confident in putting in a day of work without fear she'd turn for the worst in his absence.

Righting himself quickly, he covered his front with a pillow, grabbed his shoes both their wands and hastened to the common room to collect his cloak. With intimacy blessedly far from his mind once more, he locked her in and left with her wand and keys in his pockets. After all, he'd need them to get back in.

oOo

An icy shower set his mind straight alright, and paired with the copious amounts of Muggle expresso he'd consumed on the way into work he felt ready as possible for the day ahead.

Predictably, the department was in shambles when he arrived back at the Ministry. To add to the drama, Melvin Moody was nosing around like a hound dog on a scent. Saul silently thanked himself for adding whiskey to his carry along coffee, and stopped to pull deeply on it before meeting Moody face to face. "Zing," he shivered to himself.

Gibbons was standing beside Moody looking guilty. In general Unspeakables, didn't go ratting each other out, and Saul quickly deducted Eloise had pissed him off the evening before. He'd heard bits of their conversation as he came too, enough to piece together why he was acting out against her now and pointing fingers.

"Where's Mintumble?" Moody barked upon spotting Saul, (who was rarely seen without her.)

"Sir, she's not well this morning." Saul said regretfully. Moody looked annoyed but receptive to the facts.

"The department is in shambles, and no reports have been filed. Gibbons here, supplied that Mintumble was the last to leave last night. Can I assume you were here as well?"

"Yes sir, I left at the same time as Eloise. However I'm not entirely sure what has happen since." He said evenly.

Moody looked at Gibbons, and so did Saul. Gibbons avoided making further comment, but his expression was rather sour now. Saul considered mind modifications. He'd also need to get to MacFarlane and Fettes before Gibbons or Moody reached them. Though now he wondered how they'd faired at all… they'd been there last night together last night… he'd heard them… but he hadn't spared them a second thought in his escape.

"In my partners absence I'd be more then happy to personally investigate this latest development however I wouldn't dream of stepping on the toes of those longer in the department than I." Saul said.

Gibbons straightened up importantly, after Eloise he was next in the chain…

"Though…" Saul started up innocently, "I imagine, even without venturing through the _corrupt magic_ undoubtedly _still lingering_ around in the department… it might tie into the reason Mintumble is sick this morning… I mean you simply can't be exposed to something and not feel it! I've for instance had the _shits_ all morning." Gibbons boastful stance turned suddenly wary. Saul wasn't surprised by the change, for he knew already that Gibbons was a worrisome man who would rather save himself before sinking with the ship, which is why had phrased his words as he had.

"You know I think the remaining staff would have no issue with you resolving the issue before anyone is further exposed. I just wait here to head of MacFarlane and Fette's."

"Very good," Saul agreed humbly then rubbed his stomach. Frowning for good measure, he took one long step towards the door and peered behind him for a reaction.

"Report to me once this issue has resolved itself. For the time being I will barricade this hall, Gibbons you can stand at the line, report to me everyone who enters and exits the department." Moody dismissed them both, giving no indication he didn't want to hear more about Sauls stools.

"Yes sir," said Gibbons enthusiastically, before conjured comfortable chair. "Temporary Assistant Head." He nodded at Saul.

Entering the department without another look at either man, Saul's mind set to calculations. Under such circumstances, Saul figured he'd have at least a week before Timmons was back and able to question any of them about the first or second explosion. That didn't give him time to delay, especially now that Moody was also involved.

He'd also have to return the department to functional, and make sure no one said a word further. The task would begin with a clean sweep of their office once he'd checked out MacFarlane and Fettes office. He'd need to rid it of anything damning… and that meant violating Eloise's privacy once.

Fettes and MacFarlane weren't in their office, but it was a scene to behold. Brains sloshed out onto the blood soaked tiles. Body bags heaped in the corner, one still containing a corpse. Saul shook his head, then found himself smiling. Bribery wasn't his bag, but this warranted an easy trade. He got to work quickly, rolling up his sleeves as he went.

 **AN: Thanks for reading!**

 **Update will be quick, (Hermione section of this chapter is in final edits).**


	7. Chapter 7

**CH7 Tempus Fugit**

 **AN: Thanks, Jlove34 & JuliSt for reviewing! It is amazing to get feedback- it totally motivates me!**

 **As rapid of a release of the Hermione POV Chapter as I could manage. I wanted this to be part of my last update, but alas it wasn't in the cards! Life is insane right now, but I am trying to finish this story by March 2018 and I want it to be at least 100K words. So… expect more frequent updates from here on out!**

 **Enjoy!**

 **July 22nd 1899 – 2:30 p.m. – Millicent Wilkins (Hermione) – Potter Residence – Godric's Hollow.**

It seemed unjust that time did not cease, and that the sun and moon continued to rise and fall despite the fact that she was not yet home. Hermione wasn't ready to accept her alteration of time and yet time continued to march along, dragging her against her will, not even allowing her respite in breath or words. Her conclusion? Time was cruel, and it made exceptions for no one.

It had been 9 full days of living in the past now and everything Eloise had predicted about the timeline accommodating her had come true. It was as though she'd executed the perfect swan dive into the past, not even a ripple left to give her away.

While abundantly grateful for their care, the Potters had adjusted to her being a permanent person in their life with such little fuss it unnerved Hermione. Hermione had survived the flux without so much as a stutter and the world altogether gave her no status as an interloper, and no indication was supplied that anything had changed for anyone else. Quite simply, she now fit and existed in a world (nearly a century before her own birth,) with no rhyme or reason.

Further, it had been 5 days since Hermione had last seen either Unspeakable. While happy with unexpected break from Eloise, without the unusual pair's daily attentions, she began to feel nervous. She wondered if they'd forgotten about her, or worst, worried they had given up. She felt restless as an effect- and confused. Was she now to go on living under another name with no answers about anything? It was like falling into a dream she couldn't wake up from. A dream that she might get used to… one she might enjoy. The thoughts felt wicked. The thoughts felt like she was giving up, but truly what could she do?

With no indications of if and when the Unspeakables might show up again, Hermione felt herself falling into a routine. Daily she learned the motions of being a family member in the Potter household, as though things had never been different. Nightly, Hermione had taken time memorizing her new life for the sake of playing along. She memorized locations in France, and committed pictures to memory as though they truly did mean something to her.

Even before her incident with the tree, Persephone and Henry had worked with the Unspeakables to come up with a plan should she remain in this time indefinitely.

In the end, the deceased Hephaestus Wilkins had become Millicent Wilkin's new (false) father. He had been the oldest Wilkins sibling by three years, Persephone was the middle, Heliotrope was the youngest. Hephaestus (or Gus for short) had died on an Erumpent hunting expedition roughly 6 years ago. The timing oddly fit their need, and the lie was all together too good to pass up.

Physically and mentally she could do little, save accept the truths she couldn't deny, after all she was literally trapped in the past, and she was utterly dependent on people who might no longer exist in her own time. Emotionally she was still suffering. She felt unbalanced, and accepting this new path in life felt like giving up. Imagining herself as a character in a Shakespeare play had become one of many coping mechanisms, helping her situation appear more novel and much less tragic.

Outside of longing for the loss of her parents, and playing the role of daughter, and sister, Hermione threw herself into her old regiment… reading. In the hot and stagnant days that passed, Hermione learned the labors of reading Shakespeare. Henry had helpfully retrieved the play, "A Winters Tale ", from the Muggle world for her, and it became her comfort item despite the fact that the dated dialect eluded her.

Stubbornly, she read the words over and over, clinging to them like a long forgotten lullaby. Had she seen the play to which she'd received her name? Absolutely. Had she ever picked up the play itself to read? No. Would she admit this to the Potters? Not a chance! As far as they would know, she was an expert in, A Winters Tale!

She quickly deducted that watching the play was much different then reading it. Actors portraying characters did so with emotions, and actions. Interpreting the words alone was regrettably beyond her comprehension at present.

Hermione groaned loudly in irritation, she loathed being ignorant on any topic! _Even if_ Shakespeare was advanced reading for most adults it bothered her that she would need years to master the words to a degree that she was satisfied with. What did she really want to accomplish at present though, bragging rights? Her head popped up from where it had been resting on her chin, and her focus blurred then and refocused.

It was just unfortunate that her mind at that moment felt unraveled at best. The hell with Shakespeare, she thought irritably. The hell with deciphering archaic words in a stiff dress in the merciless dead of summer! As though another person took hold of her body just then, she flung the book (to which she'd been holding like a teddy bear for days) across the lawn. She watched it land in the shadow of the tree she'd scaled days earlier. The book closed without a marker. Open mouthed she felt a rush of adrenaline from the action. In fact… she felt exhilarated… downright rebellious, because for the first time ever- she didn't care!

Fleas happy squeal announced him seconds before he landed on her bodily. The toddler was like a tiny wrecking ball, and oddly she'd quickly become accustomed to having the wind knocked from her. In the short time she'd been there, Fleamont had managed to worm into her affections quicker then anyone else. The walls that she'd erected against the others didn't exist with him, for he as a baby had offered his love without expectations. Furthermore at home she had no siblings, no cousins, nor any real friends of her own. So it didn't feel like loving him meant she was replacing someone else. It wasn't like having new parents suddenly for instance.

"Morning Flea," she said through a pained grin. Happy for the distraction, she shoved the wild toddler from her chest to sit up fully. Flea growled in response, and Hermione shook her head at him in amusement, Fleamont's fascination in becoming a dragon had not yet failed to entertain her. She found herself smiling at his attempt at being menacing. Currently he had his sharp and mischievous eyes focused on her, and each of his small teeth showed through a proper scowl.

"Oh no- a Dragon!" Hermione played along, feigned fear. Grasping at her chest as if startled, she leapt to her feet theatrically, and moved forward in the motions of running, but under her skirt her legs were hardly moving.

Flea laughed at his own cunning, and smile crossed his face fast as lightening. Bemusedly she laughed despite pretending to be a victim. Predictably his laughter morphed into new attempts at being fierce, and he lunged at her again.

Hermione cried out loudly and staggered along as though too exhausted to escape him. Needless to say, Fleamont closed the gap quickly, nipping and snarling furiously as he came. Within pouncing distance, she froze up in mock horror and gasped. then pretended to faint.

Fighting from smiling was harder then playing dead. Even with her eyes closed she could picture him as he slowly he crept towards her. She didn't need her sight to know where he was either because his giggles gave him away. Evermore she allowed him time to take her bait, letting his confidence grow while he advanced on her poking at her for a reaction, until he'd come flush up to head level.

She felt his tiny hands on her face testing her, jabbing at her eyelids and trying to peel them open. She held her stance, and when she felt his breath on her cheeks she made her move. Jumping up suddenly and without warning she screamed bodily. Flea fell back on his bottom in shock, his face masked in a horror so comical she broke into peels of laughter.

Flea took a full minute to catch up to the hilarity of the situation but then burst into laughter of his own. Blissfully ignorant of the world, the pair tossed around on the grass together clutching their bellies in laughter. Fleamont's smile, one of pure unadulterated admiration and love. Hermione decided she could definitely live with having him as a brother even if he wasn't really hers.

"Managing to stay out trees at least," Castor Potter drawled before swallowing something large enough to stopper his speech momentarily. Cat like he he stepped out from under the shade of the tree to stand above the pair. "Taking up wildcats next… _Monkey_?"

Apparently in the ruckus of finding her after the tree incident, Eloise had coined her a new nickname, and Castor had readily adopted it. Grinning down at her wickedly, his mouth full of candy, he stepped onto her book without noticing what it was. As she gave him her full attention she noticed his pockets bulged, and his hands were also over burdened with his loot.

She deducted that sometime during her game with Flea _he_ had arrived. Truly, had she not suffered enough? Her stomach squirmed unpleasantly as she glowered up at him. Why was she cursed with the presence of this boy?

"You again?" She said, thrusting up her chin despite the copious amounts of grass caught in her hair.

"Me," he confirmed with a Cheshire smile. "Every Monday through Friday for the rest of summer."

"I'm bursting at the thought." Fleamont pulled at her hair to regain her attention but the moment had been ruined by the presence of her menace.

"Careful, he bites." Castor informed her as he selected a new piece of candy from his pockets.

"I'm aware," she said briskly. And truly, she was… because beneath her sleeves, her arms were doted up with bruises from where Flea had bitten. She had strongly considered house training with a squirt gun. Her old neighbor had trained her dog not to bite that way… so couldn't the same tactic be used on a 2 year old boy? She'd had to wave off the stroke of brilliance off when she realized squirt guns didn't exist in the Muggle world yet, let alone in the Wizarding one.

Righting herself she stood up and dusted off her dress. Persephone hadn't held back when she'd been given the final go ahead for new dresses, and Hermione now wore a brand new blue and white dress, complete with hair ribbons, and patent leather Mary Jane shoes to match.

Castor noticed her book right about then and picked it up with a look of disappointment. "Reading again?" He shook head then held it out to her like a dirty sock. "Why couldn't someone better have shown up, and not just-stuffy-boring-old-you."

"Oh give me that," She said crossly yanking the book from his grasp. Compulsively, she stroked its cover adoringly then tucked it safely into the crook of her arm.

"Barking mad," Castor said, a jellybean falling out as he spoke. Hermione's nose wrinkled at the sight, and she had to bite her tongue from berating him like a dentists daughter.

"Uncle thinks he can bribe me with Candy." Castor said offhand.

"Looks like he's succeeded." Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. "And I suppose _you want me to ask you what your big secret is_?"

Castor grunted then choked, the large chocolate in his mouth was caught in his windpipe now. Hermione stepped forward and smacked him hard on the back a few times, and candy dropped from him like a human piñata. On cue, Flea scurried forward to plunder the dropped treasure and Castor dropped to his knees to wrestle with him over it.

"Give it here Flea!" Castor shouted while coughing, managing to stuff his pockets with nearly all that had fallen. Red faced and eyes watering, he stood up and blew off the dirty candy that had fallen from his mouth, then stuffed it back in.

"Ugh," Hermione groaned at the sight, feeling more revolted by little boys by the moment. Fleamont lurched at Castor then, and latched onto his leg, positioned to bite.

"Get off!" Castor shouted, shaking his leg all the while. Flea fell backwards, and foil covered candy dropped from Castor despite his attempts to keep them all to himself.

"Not again!" Castor groaned, grabbing to retrieve it it.

Flea all the while had finally seized a fallen piece, and made to stuff it into his mouth wrapper and all. Hermione retrieved it swiftly (it was a choking hazard after-all) and handed it to Castor without any personal interest.

Castor studied her a moment as though the action was an odd one. "You're my secret, of course," he told her stuffing his pockets once more. She narrowed her eyes at him, as though searching him for any traces of value that might provide he kept his word.

"And?" She prompted him to continue.

"And, Mom and Dad are far to busy to notice anything at present but at some point they'll have to be told. If you are really meant to be _my_ cousin."

"Busy trying to get rid of you are they?" she asked innocently.

"Very funny," he answered dryly. "Important business with the Ministry, _actually_."

Hermione she rolled her eyes at the proud manner in which Castor held himself. She'd already seen and heard enough of him for the day! Taking Fleas hand she turned her back to him, and headed for the house, a cold glass of water was all she wanted right then… maybe even a bit of that silly pumpkin juice the wizards drank would be tasty… unfortunately, Castor followed.

"My parents were already planning on a family dinner this Saturday, so I imagine they'll be told then," he told her from a few steps back. "Uncle says he'll give me anything I want if I keep it to myself you climbed that tree. Mother would think you were completely barbaric had she'd seen you… in any case I told him I'd keep it to myself but I'm still going to call you monkey."

"How wonderful." She said without looking at him. The revelation that she'd be introduced to the family officially in just under 4 days made her feel overwhelmed again. Frankly, she was still recovering from the gratitude of being taken in and given clothes! It all just felt so fast, and final.

Flea growled again and tugged on her skirt as they entered the house through the back door, he wanted to be held again. Though she'd grown used to him clinging to her it still unhinged her nerves to have someone touching her when she was feeling so anxious. Further, having grown up in the college district of downtown London- she was unaccustomed to the patience it took to deal with the constant whine of a two year old. Adult sounds she could understand… anticipate actually. Children were different, much less predictable. The Potter family as a whole- was very noisy actually- compared to the starving dental student life she'd become accustomed to.

As if by cue, Persephone gestured for them to come sit down for a snack, and by the looks of her a chit-chat. Hermione straightened her dress a little compulsively and then dutifully took Flea by the hand again to steer him where they needed to go. He tottered along side of her slower then she hoped and in her anxiousness she chewed her lip so hard she tasted blood. Castor following them all the while, his pockets rustling with wrappers as he went.

" _You_ my dear are a gift from Merlin!" Henry barked out merrily as she came into his view. He rose from his chair as though lifted and gravitated to her coif, marveling over the current state of it. "You'll be the perfect muse for my hair tonic, Sleek Easy!"

"Keep those thoughts to yourself," Persephone said to him batting away his hands, "or she may end up looking like you!" Everyone laughed. Somehow (in the time since Hermione's arrival), Henry had managed to get his wife's permission to resume work on the potion that had caused the disastrous explosion not a week earlier. With renewed vigor and experimentation, Henry's hair was doubling by the day again, despite the fact that he was shaving it morning and night.

"I don't think her hair could get much worst…" Castor supplied.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him, and he stuck out his tongue at her.

"See that Honey, what did I say? Like siblings already." Harry said happily.

Persephone shook her head through a grin.

"Now." Persephone said then cleared her throat. "We should all get on the same page about this weekend. Millie dear, I'll presume since you've been with Cas more then five minutes, he's told you his parents are coming for dinner on Saturday?

"Thanks Aunt Peri." Cas said sourly. Hermione snickered.

"Anytime Cas, and please keep your mouth shut when your chewing. _Henry_ _Potter_ did you really need to give him all of that candy?" Henry didn't answer rather he whisked her into his arms and dipped her playfully, setting a kiss onto her lips. She loosened up only when he refused to lift her without a smile. Castor rolled his eyes but smiled, and Hermione found herself grinning too. The Potters affection for each other was one thing that was just like home. Her parents were the same way in their affections.

"Now," Persephone said clearing her throat. "As we've all discussed separately, my sister Heliotrope will be here an hour early."

"I'll believe that when I see it." Henry muttered.

"She's given me her word." Persephone said in annoyance, "we've been corresponding for days now!"

"Corresponding are you? One letter back from her this morning, and you've sent 6?"

"Never-the-less," Peri said looking harassed, "If you are to pass as our brothers child, it'll be better if she's had a moment to sync up with you before we introduce you to Castors parents… Now we've all gone over Gus, but we will explain that your Mother…"

"Marceline DuBois," Hermione answered promptly.

"and the last living relation on your maternal side…" Peri continued to prompt.

"Cosette DuBois."

"Very good." Persephone smiled gently before rattling on, "passed recently and you were delivered to us quite… unexpectedly as next in line kin for your guardianship."

Hermione licked her lips and looked down at her hands, she felt like a lost soul. The truth of her own heritage whacked out of her grasps, and now she was simply not a real Granger, not a real Potter, not a real Wilkins, or even a DuBois.

"Oh Millie, I need you to be strong." Persephone gushed, reading her mind simply. Hermione flushed, it seemed- that you only needed to be in Peri's presence for her to know what you were thinking. The sheer idea of her thoughts being violated that way when they were her only real freedom at present unhinged her.

Gripping her by the arms Peri pulled her in and kissed her brow, "I understand this isn't a dream come true suddenly being orphaned but you need to know… or more accordingly, hopefully you've noticed we are all so happy to have you."

"Speak for yourself." Castor.

"Just ignore him dear, he's as well equipped as his father in demonstrating empathy." Persephone said.

"Aunty!" Caster groaned then crossed his arms.

"And you'll come to love us, I'm sure of it." Persephone continued to talk over him.

"I'm not trying to seem ungrateful." Hermione told her hurriedly.

"Of course not dear! Henry and I understand what an adjustment this is for you, but you simply can't strike out on your own… "

"No." Hermione agreed sullenly. She tried to avoid looking at Castor who was smacking his lips on a new candy, watching the scene quite unabashedly.

"Now, a few things to know about my sister Heliotrope… we've already gone over her nickname, Helen… " Hermione felt her usually rapt attention for details waver in and out at Peri bustled on through her facts, "and… poor Gus, well on the positive side he's not exactly around to contradict you so you at some point and you won't need to call anyone father unless of course you wanted too…" Hermione watched her lips move, but it was as though being overwhelmed had stoppered her ears from hearing more. Call another man dad? She supposed that if she had to call anyone outside her actual father dad, Henry would be a good enough substitute. Already he'd shown her so much love and loyalty. "Also Helen's been traveling out of country for near a decade so… she's a better alternative to a cover story then I if we had to go that route."

Hermione wasn't sure what the last part of her speech included, but Peri seemed to be temporarily finished talking. She licked her lips and tried to look as though she was on page with everyone else still.

Castor, now fixed her with a pointed look, "Can I tell her, _I know_ , now?"

"I think you just did Honey." Peri told him, not unkindly.

"I know you're from the future," he said unnecessarily. "But I won't tell. Not even my parents."

Hermione felt hot with guilt, begrudgingly she offered her new cousin a smile. Truth-be-told she wasn't entirely comfortable being indebted to someone who could be won over by candy alone. However, she supposed if the Potters could trust Castor so could she.

Hermione needed a moment to let things soak in. "I think I need a walk…" she said heavily.

"That's a lovely idea," Peri said. "Castor could use a walk too." Both children looked ready to argue at being sent off together, but moments later Hermione's bright idea for fresh air away from everyone, included the very person she'd most like to avoid.

 **oOo**

"Stick to the town! _If_ you do end up in the meadow- go no further then the pond!" Peri called out after them as they left out the front gate.

As though he was embarrassed to be caught in public with her, Castor started the walk a full ten feet behind her. Hermione pretended not to notice, and if it weren't for the racket in his pockets she might have forgotten Castor was there at all- because she quickly found herself mesmerized by the beauty of Godric's Hollow.

The town Church and Cemetery stood at the end of their block, and it caught her attention almost immediately. She stopped to gape at it - completely enchanted. Castor walked by her taking the lead without her notice, then continued to walk.

Wrapped in a mysterious fog, the grounds as a whole seemed to hum like she was overhearing something at a far distance away. Also (and it could have been the heat) but she swore she could make out little streams of golden dust, like the rays from the sun were sprinkling over the gravestones.

She found her focus center in on a life-sized statue of a winged angel. It stood dramatically in the shadow of a massive weeping willow. As though alive, the angels head shifted to face Hermione and two single black tears fell in unison down her cheeks and stopped along her bared neck.

"Fancy dying?" Castor shouted from further along the road, Hermione sucked in the breath she was holding to look at him, miraculously he seemed to be waiting for her.

Clutching her chest, she failed to answer back straight away and looked back at the statue. Hermione felt a chill rush down her spine, and she shivered despite the heat.

It was as though she'd imagined the whole thing! The Angel solid as stone now and showed no traces the black tears she'd seen seconds earlier. Further, the fog and golden dust had vanished too.

"Oh come on then!" Castor shouted impatiently. She flushed in frustration. Truly he was a jagged pill to swallow! How could he walk past such a place without the least bit of notice? Maybe it was just ordinary magic to him, she rationalized. With one last look at the twisted iron fences she followed after Castor, finding the rest of the town just as mind-altering.

Godric's Hollow was a mix of magic and non-magic people. Nearly 100 years in the past, Hermione felt riveted by the dated clothes and construction, but she also found herself picking out the Muggles. Suddenly, she felt like a foreigner among them. Her very situation damning her from any chance of going back o the world she'd come from, because to Muggles Time Travel didn't happen in real life.

The magical community on the other hand had accepted her jumping in time as though it wasn't unheard of. Wizards even had a name for her particular kind, and explanation for it. There were even books written on it! Of course for those daring or dumb enough to be exposed…they had all ended badly… but suddenly she felt more synchronized with magic then not.

Castor walked at a clipped pace now. His irritation and boredom shining through like a bull in a china shop. He began kicking at things and pulling leafs from the trees as he walked only to break or trample them. Hermione tried not to look at him but instead turned her attention to the long, winding cobblestone roads. They had groves in them from where the carriage wheels had (over centuries) worn them down, and there were occasional stalls for horses. Horse manure dotted the streets, and with it an odor that hit you as you passed. Hermione chewed her lip. It was all so bizarre that this was to be her life now.

No matter how many days she had been living in the past- it all still seemed like a wild dream to her. Ever mindful of Eloise's warnings about giving herself away, she felt a little relieved to have Castors hustling her along, for without him she might have lingered in the way that one does when they see something truly extraordinary. Already, she felt herself adopting the attitude one takes up at a museum… curious, and objective examinations.

Stepped back from a group of notable Muggle passerby's she shrunk back against a stone wall and she watched agape as the group walked by a flashing Wizards supply display without so much as a blink. Not even a nod at the shopkeeper who stood to it's right!

"How come no ones going into that shop?" She asked Castor, crossing her arms and frowning. She found it rude the way that they'd ignored the shopkeeper.

"Can't see them," Castor said as though it was obvious, narrowing his eyes at her suspiciously. "Magic shops are enchanted so the Muggles look right past them." He regarded her a moment longer, and then the passing group. "Hang on, have you ever even met a Muggle before the other day?"

She assumed he meant the Oliver's (the Muggle family that had found her), and shook her head incredulously at his misinterpretation. Clearly he'd mistaken her surprise in time traveling for surprise toward Muggles. It was no wonder Henry Potter was exploiting the fact with candy!

"Yes, of course I have." She told him without expanding.

"Mph." He wasn't convinced, but his sights had set firmly on the fields now. "Want to go to the pond then? I mean you've seen everything."

"Not the library."

"Library?" He groaned, the word falling from his lips as though the very thought pained him. "You would hold out for the library! …I'll tell you what…" he hedged, " lets go to the meadow now, and the next time your in need of a read, we can sneak back to my house… and have a go at my library."

" _You_ have a library?"

" _My parents_ have a library." He corrected haughtily. "I won't claim I spend time in there unless forced to."

"And it's impressive? I mean it's better then the towns library?"

"Everything about my house is impressive." He told her. It was her turn to snort.

"Fine, I'll hold off on the library. What off the graveyard and that church?"

"You mean to tell me you'd rather go sniffing around people tombs then go out to the meadow? There's a pond we can stick our feet in… to cool off."

"I'm a fan of History." She defended putting her hand on her hip.

"Oh alright. Tomorrow I'll take you to see the dead heads and I'll even show you our family history…how's that? Will you come now? Granddad and Grandmom Potter are buried there, as is the line before them." He closed the gap between them then.

"Fine, lead the way." She agreed shortly, she wouldn't admit to him something he'd suggested interested her but sinking her feet into cold water sounded like heaven just then.

"Thank you Merlin," he exclaimed loudly. Taking her hand to hasten her, he led her back in the direction of the Potters house. Mr. Oliver's farm stood between it and the meadow, and Hermione found her self in his path once more.

"Good afternoon," she said to Martin Oliver. He glared at her and grumbled a highly suspicious hello in return that caused her cousin, Castor burst into laughter.

Dragging her off by the elbow at a trot, he whispered, "you know he can't remember you right?"

"Maybe. Sort of. How exactly _is that possible_?"

"Why do you care?" He laughed. "He's a Muggle! Just get over talking to him!"

Hermione shrugged loose of his grip on her arm, and looked one last time at the man now turning back for his farm. It was strange to have spent a virtual day in his home and then not to be recognized by him. The sheer feeling of being erased from his memories made the divide between her old world and new one seem wider.

"Come on!" Castor shouted at her, bringing her attention back around to her surroundings. The meadow was a sight to behold! Now (that she wasn't running through it as a means to escape), Hermione was able to see it properly for what it was. Breathtaking.

Hermione let her arms raise up to the sky then fall down to her sides, lavishing in its splendor. It seemed to stretch out forever! No power lines, or building, or cranes. No cars or people or anything visible in the distance. Just rolling fields, and trees- with a hint of the ocean at the horizon.

Land untouched by urban sprawl… her father would have said. Her smile was bittersweet as she acclimatized to the feeling of it. The way the grass rose up to her chest, and brushed up against her as she walked through it after Castor. The adventure such as place offered you was a new and exotic feeling to her.

"Hide and Seek Tag?" Castor yelled back at her. "You're it!" He added taking off before she could argue.

Hermione took off after him, laughing despite herself. So this is what kids did, she thought feeling giddy. Her own parents had always treated her like another adult so naturally she'd begun acting like one.

The Potter family on the other hand, had expected her to act and behave like a child. The large problem with that was, Hermione hadn't any clue what normal kids did!

Feeling slightly ridiculous, she consciously reminded herself to uncoil. She had a friend now… a cousin really, and silly as it was that the two of them were pouncing around like a pair of kittens- it also felt good.

If it weren't for his candy stuffed pockets Castor might have eluded her, for he was much faster then she and the crunch of his footfalls were masked by the sounds of wildlife waking for the evening. Further his hair was the same golden color of the wheat woven into the rich greens of the field. Much more quickly then she could have predicted, Hermione felt herself falling into playing along with Castor as easily as she had with Flea. He was faster then her, but that made catching him more of a triumph, and running from him that much more exciting.

As the sun began to sink in the sky they at last found the pond and stood catching their breaths side by side at it's edge. Ensconced entirely by tall grasses, and trees they watched the ducks on the water and the geese flying overhead.

True to form, Castor ruined the serenity of the moment the second he picked up a rock and chucked it at a duck. Barely missing it, the duck squawked indignantly at him and flew off in an angry manner. Castor laughed at it.

"You're awful!" She told him aghast. "You know that right?"

"Says you? Like I care what you think!"

"What if you'd hit that poor duck?" She implored shrilly, "What did he do to you anyways?"

"He's in my pond! And how do you know it's a boy anyways?"

"His coloring, you idiot! Male ducks are colorful to attract mates." Her father had told her that once in London. "The girls are brown like that one there." She pointed.

With his hands resting on his hips, and his chin thrust up like it was, she thought he look very much like Peter Pan the night he'd lost his shadow. Did that make her Wendy? The title seemed appropriate at present. He seemed far from wanting to grow up as any boy could!

"Know it all." Castor finally accused as he kicked off his shoes and sunk his feet into the water.

"Better than a know nothing," she answered. Castor smirked but said nothing. The heat was still atrocious even in the evening, and bending at the waist she unbuttoned her boots neatly to take them off too. Hermione found herself in that moment wishing she were wearing a swim suit, as opposed to the full dress she wore instead.

"What's it like there?" Castor asked, watching her step into the water, he had finally stopped eating and was seated at the ponds edge, feet in whilst he pulled the grass up in chunks.

"Like night and day." She answered through a frown, watching the devastation of nature wearily. "Girls don't wear ribbons in their hair for starters, or wear big bothersome dresses in heat like this either."

"What do they wear?"

"Same as boys, shorts, and sandals, sleeveless blouses…."

"That's ludicrous, do you live in trees as well?" He laughed.

"Yes, and we live entirely off bananas and hair lice." She said dryly, sitting down beside him. "Ooh-ooh-ah-ah," she deadpanned a monkey call. Castor looked at her impressed, and Hermione felt herself flush. They both laughed.

"Maybe you can be funny." He smiled at her.

Hermione leaned back onto her elbows, and smiled at him. She closed her eyes and let her face drop back so that the setting sun hit it. Her body felt worn out, but not as it had been after the tree. No. She could get used to this feeling.

Hermione realized in that moment, what her previous life hadn't exposed her to. Before coming to this time she'd never even once just sat out in the sun before, never set foot in a Meadow, never played Hide and Seek with a friend… never truly had a friend. Yet now, she was normal as any other child her age, and there wasn't an adult conversation within ear span! Now, she was just siting there- listening to crickets- and watching the birds with a boy she'd be seeing a lot of.

"Do you miss your parents?" Castor asked. Hermione's eyes widened in surprise at his uncharacteristic softness.

"Maybe you do have a heart." She told him with a face of disbelief. He grinned impishly. After a moment she added, "Yes, I miss them very much."

 **AN: Thanks for reading! Please Review**


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